From Durham’s rising hills, and ’tis called—The Tyne.
Flow on, lovely Tyne, undisturb’d be thy motion,
Thy sons hold the threats of proud France in disdain;
As long as thy waters shall mix with the ocean,
The fleets of Old England will govern the main.
Other rivers for fame have by poets been noted
In many a soft-sounding musical line;
But for sailors and coals never one was yet quoted,
Could vie with the choicest of rivers—the Tyne.
Flow on, lovely Tyne, &c.