The joyous men of North Shields their church bells set a ringing sweet,
And tar-barrels blaz'd, their high rapture for to shew;
Like bears some fell a dancing, like ravens some were singing sweet,
'Poor Jack,' 'Rule Britannia' and 'Yo heave O.'
Some grog were freely quaffing,
Like horses some were laughing;
Their matchless powers in bellowing all eager seem'd to shew;
The Branch, they cried, we've got,
And with it, well we wot,
Fitters, bankers, merchants, soon will follow in a row.
The Newcastle deputation, no doubt on't, swagger'd much, sir,
Expecting our Pilgarlicks soon foiled would have been;
But too hard for them all prov'd the diplomatic Butcher,
Whose tongue, like his gully-knife, is marvellously keen,
Spite of wheedling and of sneering,
Bamboozling and queering,
He to his purpose stuck so firm, so true, and so staunch,
The Town Clerk and his chums,
Stood whistling on their thumbs,
Astonish'd, whilst triumphantly he bore away the Branch.
And now since the Custom House we thus have got translated,
Why longer should the County Courts Newcastle proudly grace?
We wise-ones of North Shields, tho' reckon'd addle-pated,
For this pile so magnificent will find a fitter place.
Yon space[32] which——'s skill,
Seems destin'd ne'er to fill
With structures worthy Athens' or Corinth's proudest day;
Yon space! O is it not
The very, very spot
Where the County Courts their splendour so massive should display?
If once our gen'ral committee determine, in full quorum,
The removal of our Courts, the result will fully shew,
That the Lords of the Treasury, and Custos Rotulorum,
(Our high displeasure dreading) will not dare to whisper No.
And when the whim impells,
To eclipse the Dardanelles;
The old Castle of its ancient sight shall straightway take its leave,
To brave the billow's shocks,
On the dread Black Midden rocks,
However for its transit Antiquarians sore may grieve.
Then comes the grand finale, for which our souls we'd barter now;
The Regent and his ministers we'll pester night and day,
Till tranferr'd to us Newcastle sees her revenues and charter too,
And from Heddon streams to Tynemouth bar, Tyne owns our sovereign sway.
O when our town so famous is,
Big as Hippopotamuses,
We'll strut about the Bank-top quite semi-divine;
The neighbouring coasters all,
Our greatness shall appall,
And their topsails straight they'll lower to the lords of the Tyne.
'Twas thus with idle rumours poor gentlemen delighted,
The honest men of North Shields to fancy gave the rein;
Sad proof that when ambition with folly is united,
Astonishing chimeras oft occupy the brain.
But soon their joy was banish'd,
Soon each illusion vanish'd,
For news arriv'd the Butcher the Branch could not obtain.
Deep, deep in the dumps,
(After playing all his trumps)
Just as branchless as he went he was 'toddling hyem' again,
Newcastle, thou dear canny town! O ever thus defeated
Be every hostile effort thy prosperity to shake;
Long grumbling to thy Custom-house, in gigs and coaches seated,
May the honest men of North Shields their daily journies take,
And, mounted on their hacks,
Long, long too, may the Jacks
Continue their equestrian skill on Shields road to display;
Tho' oft their tits may stumble,
And o'er the bows they tumble,
Unhurt, still bold, may they remount, and onward bowl away.
Newcastle men, rejoice! O haste, on this occasion,
With many a jovial bumper our whistles let us wet,
Lord Eldon, with Sir William Scott, and all our deputation,
To toast, with acclamations due, O let us not forget:
To them our thanks be tender'd,
Good services they've render'd—
And let us hope in after times, should Branch wars rage again,
In Newcastle 'twill be found,
Such men do then abound,
The commercial pre-eminence still boldly to maintain.
[32] The New Market Place.