Long has Tyne's swelling bosom borne
Great riches from the mine,
All by her hardy sons uptorn—
The wealth of coaly Tyne.
Our keelmen brave, with laden keels,
Go sailing down in line,
And with them load the fleet at Shields,
That sails from coaly Tyne.
When Bonaparte the world did sway,
Dutch, Spanish, did combine;
By sea and land proud bent their way,
The sons of coaly Tyne.
The sons of Tyne, in seas of blood,
Trafalgar's fight did join,
When led by dauntless Collingwood,
The hero of the Tyne.
With courage bold, and hearts so true,
Form'd in the British line;
With Wellington, at Waterloo,
Hard fought the sons of Tyne.
When peace, who would be Volunteers?
Or Hero Dandies fine?
Or sham Hussars, or Tirailleurs?—
Disgrace to coaly Tyne.
Or who would be a Tyrant's Guard,
Or shield a libertine?
Let Tyrants meet their due reward,
Ye sons of coaly Tyne.
NEWCASSEL RACES.
It's hae ye heard the ill that's duen?
Or hae ye lost? or hae ye won?
Or hae ye seen what mirth and fun,
At fam'd Newcassel Races, O?
The weather fine, and folks sae gay,
Put on their best, and bent their way
To the Town Moor, to spend the day,
At fam'd Newcassel Races, O.