No column could crumble into pie—
The forme was so well lock’d up with quoin,
And the chase was proud of every line.
I love, I love, the motley page,
And if I live to well-fed age,
And e’er-so-often change my views,
What matter? I’ll always love the News!
From “Songs of the Press, and other Poems relative to the art of Printing, original and selected.” Compiled by C. H. Timperley, and published by Fisher, Son & Co., London, 1845.
The Press.