They think to move Bill-point—a spot
So lovely and romantic—
Which has sent many ships to pot,
And set some seamen frantic;
Then many a gowk will run to see,
And stare with admiration,
From Snowdon's Hole to Wincomlee—
O what a Corporation!
How silent once was Wallsend-shore—
Its dulness was a wonder;
Now, from the staiths, full waggons pour
Their coals like distant thunder;
To have restor'd its wonted peace,
In vain our supplication,—
The trade, they say, it will increase—
O what a Corporation!
Where Tynemouth-bar, I understand,
A rock from side to side is,
How well would look a bank of sand,
Not higher than the tide is;
But this, it seems, is not to be—
In spite of my oration,
The Tyne is still to join the sea—
O what a Corporation!
O would the Tyne but cease to flow,
Or, like a small burn, bubble,
There would not be a barge-day now,
Nor we have all this trouble;
But here, alas! we sailing roam
About its conservation,
Instead of sleeping safe at home—
O what a Corporation!
The Moral.
As patriots in public cause,
We never once have swerv'd yet,
And if we have not gain'd applause,
We know we've well deserv'd it:
Who thinks we care for feasting, he
Must be a stupid noddy—
We're, like the Herbage-committee,
An ill-requited body.
Robert Gilchrist.
ST. NICHOLAS' CHURCH.
O bonny church! ye've studden lang,
To mence our canny town;
But I believe ye are sae strang,
Ye never will fa' down:
The architects, wi' a' their wit,
May say that ye will fa';
But let them talk—I'll match ye yet
Against the churches a'.
CHORUS.