A tottering, trembling structure, enshrining memories dear,
This weather-beaten barrier, this quaint old Blankton Weir.
While leaning on those withered rails, what feelings oft come back,
As I watch the white foam sparkling and note the current's track;
What crowds of fleeting fancies come dancing through my brain!
And the good old days of Blankton, I live them o'er again;
What hopes and fears, gay smiles, sad tears, seem mirrored in the mere,
While looking on its glassy face by tell-tale Blankton Weir!
I've seen it basking 'neath the rays of summer's golden glow,
And when sweetly by the moonlight, silver ripples ebb and flow;