Thus ended his oration, Sir, I had it from the barber;
And dripping, like some River God, he slowly left the harbour.
Ye men of North and South Shields too, God send ye all prosperity,
May your commerce ever flourish, your stately ships still crowd the sea;
Unrivall’d in the Coal Trade, till doomsday may you stand, Sirs,
And every hour, fresh wonders, your eyes and mouths expand, Sirs.
And long may Stephen K—— live, and never may the barber
Mistake him for a monster more, deep floundering in the harbour.