Long since my roof has rung to song,
And smil'd on gay carouses,
Newcastle then—though now so throng—
Was somewhat scant of houses:
I've stood so long, nor Bourne nor Brand
My days can place a date on,
So even spare me still to stand,
My canny Mr. Clayton.
Newcastle now, like Greece or Rome,
Gives all the world a mazer,
And Mister Grainger has become
More like Nebuchadnezzar:
Build houses till ye touch the sun,
Aye work both soon and late on,
But do not try on me such fun,
My canny Mister Clayton.
Yon villas fine—with all their sneers—
Time will not have to hallow,
Ere they have seen one-tenth my years,
Their sites will lie in fallow;
So do not think I envy them,
Though pompously they prate on:
They're sprigs, but I'm a sober stem,
My canny Mister Clayton.
Then say the word, my lease renew,
And win a wreath of glory—
A bard of Tyne will sing of you,
All in my upper story.
Who lays disporting hands on me,
All ills may pour his pate on,
So be advis'd, and let me be,
My canny Mister Clayton.
R. Gilchrist.
EUPHY'S CORONATION.
Tune—"Arthur M'Bride."
To the Fish-market we are ganning—the queen is proclaim'd!
And Euphy's their choice, for beauty lang fam'd—
They've geen her full pow'r, now she's justly ordain'd;
So they've gyen to crown honest aud Euphy!
The market was crowded the queen for to view—
Euphy sat for promotion, drest up wi' new;
The procession appear'd, bearing the flag—a true blue!
And then they surrounded aud Euphy.
The procession was headed by Barbara Bell,
He was follow'd by chuckle-head Chancellor Kell—
Mally Ogle appear'd, wi' a barrel o' yell,
To drink to the health of aud Euphy.
Honest Blind Willie, tee, gaw them a call—
There was great Bouncing Bet, Billy Hush, and Rag Sall,
The Babe o' the Wood, with Putty-mouth Mall,
A' went to crown honest aud Euphy.