THE OYSTER-WIFE'S PETITION,

Oh! Mister Mayor, it grieves me sair— Alas! what mun aw dee? Wor Oyter-tub[46] is doom'd ne mair To grace Newcassel Kee! Wor bonny lamp that brunt se breet, And cheer'd each wintry neet se dreary, Is gyen, and lots o' canny folks Will miss it sair when cawd and weary! Whack, row de dow, &c. Now, for the sake of her that's gyen, Just speak the cheering word, And say, that to wor ancient burth, Aw suen will be restor'd. The news wor town wad 'lectrify, And gar yor nyem to live for ever— In efter times yor deeds wad shine, And 'clipse the nyem o' wor Tyne river. Whack, row de dow, &c. Had Charley Brandling, bliss his nyem, Been spar'd to seen this day, He'd shown the great respect he had For poor aud Madgie Gray; Alas! he's gyen;—close to yorsel' Aw'll stick until aw's satisfied, sir; When ye look on this good-like fyece, Maw wishes ne'er can be denied, sir. Whack, row de dow, &c. Frae Summer-hill down to the Kee, Fo'ks kenn'd poor Madgie weel,— Aw's very sure wor Magistrates For maw condition feel; The cellar's ow'r confin'd and damp,— Restore us to wor canny station, And bliesings great will leet upon Wor canny Toon and Corporation. Whack, row de dow, &c.