THE BONASSUS.

Let Wombwell, James, and a' the pack Iv yelpin' curs, beef-eaters, Ne mair about Bonasses crack, Them queer, outlandish creturs. Be dumb, ye leeing, yammering hounds, Nor wi' yor clavers fash us, For seun aw'll prove wor canny town Can boast its awn Bonassus. It chanc'd when honest Bell was Mayor, And gat each poor man's blessin— When cheps like G—e, and Tommy C—r Gat monny a gratis lesson; Then Bell refus'd to stand agyen, Tir'd iv the situation, And ne awd wife wad tyek the chain Iv a' wor Corporation. The folks iv Shields has lang begrudg'd The Custom-house beside us; This was the time, they reetly judg'd, To come sae fine langside us: They had a chep, W——t was his nyem, To poor folk rather scurvy, They sent him up wor heeds to kyem, And turn us topsy turvy. He seun began to show his horns, And treat the poor like vassals— He sent the apple-wives to mourn A month iv wor awd Cassel. The timber marchants will ne mair Wiv ten-a-penny deave us— They swear iv W——t's to be wor Mayor, That i' the dark they'll leave us. The drapers next he gov a gleece, 'Bout their unruly samples— Bound ower the clouts to keep the peace, Wiv strings to the door stanchells. The tatee-market, iv a tift— (Ye heuxters a' resent it! My sarties! but that was a shift,) To the Parade Ground sent it. Ye gowks, frae Shields ye've oft slipt up, When ye had little 'casion, To see wor snobs their capers cut, Or Geordy's Coronation; Now altogether come yence mair, Wor blissins shall attend ye, If ye'll but rid us o' wor Mayor, Iv hackney's back we'll send ye.