The Tyne #2
By the Same--Written in 1807

In Britain's blest island there runs a fine river,
Far fam'd for the ore it conveys from the mine:
Northumbria's pride, and that district doth sever
From Durham's rising hills, and 'tis called--the Tyne.

Chorus-
Flow on, lovely Tyne, undisturb'd be thy motion,
Thy sons hold the threats of proud France in distain;
As long as thy waters shall mix with the ocean,
The fleets of Old England will govern the main.

Other rivers for fame have by poets been noted
In many a soft-sounding musical line;
But for sailors and coals never one was yet quoted,
Could vie with the choicest of rivers--the Tyne.

When Collingwood conquer'd our foes so completely,
And gain'd a fine laurel, his brow to entwine;
In order to manage the matter quite neatly,
Mann'd his vessel with tars  from the banks of the Tyne.

Thou dearest of rivers, oft-times have I wander'd
Thy margin along when oppress'd sore with grief,
And thought of thy stream, as it onward meander'd.
The murmuring melody gave me relief.

From the fragrant wild flowers that blow on they border,
The playful Zephyrus oft steals an embrace,
And curling thy surface in beauteous order,
The willows bend forward to kiss thy clear face.

One favour I crave--O kind fortune befriend me!
When downhill I totter, in Nature's decline--
A competent income-- if this thou wilt send me,
I'll dwindle out life on the banks of the Tyne.

H. Robson-In: The Newcastle Song Book or Tyne-Side Songster., W&T Fordyce
Newcastle Upon Tyne.