NEWCASTLE HACKNEY COACHES.

Of a' the toons that's i' the north, Newcastle bangs them a', For lady folk and gentlemen, And every thing that's braw, A fig for Lunnen i' the South— But mind now, let's hae nae reproaches, For they say that Lunnen's hang'd hersel, Through spite at wor new Hackney Coaches. Yep! fal der al dal, &c. Wor toon has grown se big now, Aw ne'er saw the like before; Live ye only lang eneugh, Ye'll see't join'd to Tynemouth shore; We've our Literinary Sicties, Shops cramm'd wiv plate and diamond broaches, But it's ne use telling ony mair, There's nowt gans doon but Hackney Coaches. Yep! &c. Ca-la-de-scoups were yence the rage, Sedans—were all the go; But till the noise gets fairly ower, They may keep them iv a row; Gang where you will, the talk is still, At tea or cards why all the rage is, "Why bless me, sir! have you not seen Our stylish two-horse Hackney Stages!" Yep! &c. A Bond-street lounge tee we might hev, If 't wasn't for the mud! A Piccadilly we're gaun to get, And other streets as good: Maw sangs! aw think we'll 'clipse them out! But faith I'd better haud me ditty, For fear, ye ken, in ganging hyem, They Hackneyfy me to the Kitty. Yep! &c.