THE CHANGES ON THE TYNE.

I'll sing you a bit of a ditty, I hope you will not think it lang, At least if it tires your patience, I'll verra suin shorten my sang; It's all about comical changes, And new-fangled things on the Tyne, I've witness'd since aw was a skipper, And that isn't verra lang syne. CHORUS. These are the days of improvement, We're a' gettin wiser, you see, The skuilmaister's getting abroad, And he'll finish us off to a tee. Baith sides of the Tyne, aw remember, Were cover'd wi' bonny green fields, But now there is nought but big furnaces Down frae Newcastle to Shields; And what wi' their sulphur and brimstone, Their vapour, their smoke, and their steam, The grass is all gaen, and the farmers Can nowther get butter or cream. These are the days, &c. For making their salts and their soda, They formerly us'd a kail-pot, With an awd-fashion'd bit of a chimley They were quite satisfied wi' their lot; But now Anty Clapham, the Quaker, Has fill'd a' the folks wi' surprise, For he's lately built up a lang chimley, Within a few feet o' the skies! These are the days, &c. There's Losh's big chimley at Walker, Its very awn height makes it shake, And if Cookson's again tumble ower, It will make a new quay for the Slake; To talk of your fine foreign pillars, It's enough for to make a man sick, The great tower of Babble compar'd Wi' wor chimleys is nowt but a stick. These are the days, &c. For three-pence to Shields aw remember In a wherry the folk us'd to gan, And that was consider'd by many A very respectable plan; But now we've got sixpenny steamers, A stylish conveyance, I'm sure, For there you've a tune on the fiddle, And a lie on the sands for an hour. These are the days, &c. Then ower the land we'd a whiskey, Which went twice or thrice in the day, Which us'd to take all the fine gentry, And quite in an elegant way; But now the awd whiskey's neglected, And nothing but coaches suit us, Lord help us! there's nothing gans now But a hyke in the new omnibus. These are the days, &c. At one time wor ships were all loaded Sae canny and snug by the keels, And then a' wor maisters made money, And keelmen were a' happy chiels; But now your fine drops de the business! Lord bless us! aw never saw such, Though some of wor owners aw's freeten'd Hev getten a drop ower much. These are the days, &c. And then an aud horse brought a waggon A' the way frae the pits to the staith, But now it appears pretty certain, They'll verra suin dee without baith, For now their fine steam locomotives A' other inventions excels, Aw've only to huik on the waggons, And they'll bring a ship-load down their sels. These are the days, &c. New rail-roads now spring up like mushrooms, Aw never, maw soul! saw the like, We'll turn every thing topsy-turvy, And leave ourselves not a turnpike; Then horses will live without working, And never more trot in a team, And instead of carrying their maisters, They'll get themsels carried by steam. These are the days, &c. Wor ballast-hills now are grown handsome, And what they call quite pictoresk, Ne poet can de them half justice If he writes all his life at his desk; They're hilly, and howley, and lofty, Presenting fresh views every turn, And they'd luik like Vesuvius or Etna, If we could only get them to burn. These are the days, &c. And as for aud canny Newcastle, It's now quite a wonderful place, Its New Market, nothing can match it In elegance, beauty, and grace; Could our forefathers only just see it, My eye! they would start wi' surprise, I fancy I just hear them saying— "What's come of the buggy pigsties?" These are the days, &c. And this is a' duin by one Grainger— A perfect Goliah in bricks, He beats Billy Purvis quite hollow In what ye ca' slight of hand tricks; He's only to say, "Cock-o-lorum, Fly Jack, presto, quick and be gane," And new houses spring up in an instant— Of the audins you can't see a stane. These are the days, &c. In sculler-boats, not very lang syne, The Shields folk cross'd ower the Tyne, But now we have got a big steamer, And cuts quite a wonderful shine; And one that we've got down at Scotland, Delights a' the folks with a ride, For it gans back and forward sae rapid, That it just makes a trip in a tide. These are the days, &c. I think I've now told you, my hinnies, The whole of the changes I've seen, At least a' the whirligig fashions That I have been able to glean; So the next time we meet a' together, Some other improvements I'll get, And then we shall make worsels happy, And try a' wor cares to forget. These are the days, &c.