Part 3 — CROAKUM REDIVIVUS.

“Croney, its now near thirty year, Since here I saw thy face; And since that time, my honest bird, What change here’s taken place. Gotham, in troth, is alter’d quite; Here’s nought as ’twas before: People nor town should I have known, Had I not heard the BURR.” Our steeple’s gone,[80] that lov’d abode, Where once we loudly croak’d Advice to Gotham’s aldermen; And with the freemen jok’d. Now Gotham, London fashions apes, They’ve every thing to tempt ye; Like the city—shops with showy fronts, And insides poor and empty. And then so alter’d is the town, As well as Gotham’s people; That not a building here’s the same, Except Saint Nich’las steeple. Fam’d steeple! Gotham’s greatest boast, Long may you here remain, Whilst other churches are pull’d down, And built ’gain and again. The streets are now so num’rous grown,[81] E’en Gothamites don’t know them; So signs they’ve painted ’gainst the walls, In every nook to shew them.[82] And such the rage, for naming streets, That gaps made in th’ Old Wall; They Heron Street and Forster Street, Unwittingly do call. Th’ old streets were next, not wide enough, So th’ pants they took away,[83] To place them in some corner dark, Where th’ girls could wanton play. Yet for themselves, they have such fears, Their road, they ne’er can see; So they want lamps, from th’ Barras Bridge, E’en to Saint Peter’s Quay.[84] The Crosses too, they’ve taken down,[85] Tho’ built the other day; They too, I fancy, did impede, The great folks in their way. And next their nostrils delicate, Can’t bear the smell of meat; And straight the Butcher’s shops and stalls,[86] Fly quickly from the street. Their foolish pride there’s nought can stop, Improvement’s all the go; Unseemly’s every thing that’s old, So all that’s old’s laid low. Each relique of their sires is gone, Or got a modern face on: The poor old Castle,[87]—Gotham’s pride, A modern cap they place on. The Bridge is widen’d,[88] the Quay enlarg’d,[89] The old Moothall laid low;[90] And other Court’s,[91] like all their works, They’ve built here all for show. Show, show’s the word in Gotham now, And ev’ry thing that’s new; From th’ Infirmary,[92] to th’ Children’s School,[93] A palace is to view. The Westgate boasts its palace now,[94] On the Moor another’s seen;[95] And (to please the nabobs of the east) A Bridge has Pandon Dean:[96] To see their Church, see they’ve pull’d down, Many a good and bad house;[97] There’s one thing more, howe’er, they want, And that’s a spacious Mad House! For, when these alterations end, To tell I’ve not the pow’r; E’en now their quarreling about, Th’ improvement of the moor[98] Yet like the Roman, who for want Of worlds—from war refrain’d; Gotham’s changes and improvements, Will with th’ world’s limits end.

’Tis said that in the good old times One Orpheus liv’d, a man of rhymes, And famous on the lyre: Whene’er the poet sung, the trees Rush’d from the mountains to the seas, Or jumpt into the fire. But mark what wonders fill our land, When late th’ Association-band In this illustrious town, (For more than ancient fame renown’d) Display’d their magic pow’rs of sound, Off mov’d—the Sheriff’s gown!!!