When Archbold was called, he said, with much grace,
That Newton held the lanthorn reet in his fyece,
And spoke in a manner baith rude and absord
To the town-councillor for St. Andrew's West Ward.
Next Dobson appears with his bloody claes,
His hede all bund up, luiking pale, and he says,
As how nyen o' them had getten ower much drink,
As Torney Tinley wanted the justice to think.
Now the crowner being ended, t'other side did begin,
And Tinley he vapour'd, and they swore thick and thin;
But aw'll say ne mair, lest you should be bor'd,
But merely relate, that Jack Tinley was floor'd.
And the justices said, 'twas a shem the directors
Should set twe sic blackguards on the line for inspectors,
And, addressing them byeth, said unto the men,
Yer byeth fined—Allan five pounds, and you, Newton, ten.
Noo, when aw seed the way the thing went,
Thinks aw, the directors are surely content,
And will myek the cheps 'mends, from the way they've been tret,
But the warst of my story it is to come yet.
Ne suiner was't knawn what the verdict was,
Than the railway attorney, he out with the brass,
And, flinging it doon, said, "Much good may it do yee!
Gie me a resait, and set wor pollismen free."
Noo sic wark as this, it is varry shocken,
Folks canna gan te Shields without hevin their hedes brocken,
And aw've myed up ma mind, if aw's not in a hurry,
Te gan in Mitchell's fine boats, or Johnson's fam'd whurry.
Folly Wharf, Nov. 35, 1839.