The Newcastle Song Book Part 38

Next sagely argue o'er your wine, This crew, debas'd beyond compare, In fact and reason are true swine, Unlike Corinthian Pillars fair."[22]

_Pigstye Court, Sandhill, 12th July, 1821._

Footnote 22: The Rich were called the "Corinthian Pillars of Society"

by the pensioner Burke; while he termed the Industrious Cla.s.ses the "Swinish Mult.i.tude."

THE GOLDEN HORNS;

_Or, The General Invitation_.

Come, neighbours, to Robson's let's all hie away, To see the Ox crown'd with ribbons so gay: His horns are well gilded, his head bright does s.h.i.+ne, We'll soon get a slice and a horn full of wine.

Some come from afar, as did wise men of old, To see our King's head branch'd out thus with gold.

Success, then, to horns, when they're gilded so clever; May the ... wear horns, and wear them for ever.

In praise then of horns let all Newcastle sing; For he who scorns horns despises his ...

Let them boast of their garters, and boast of their stars, But horns are far better than honours or scars.

Never blush for your horns, then, though low be your station, Since horns are the pride of the _Chief_ of our nation.

Let them make Lords and Dukes, crown an _a.s.s_, if they will, The order of Horns let it be my theme still.

LOYAL FESTIVITIES;

_Or, Novel Scenes at Newcastle_.

A POPULAR SONG IN THE NEW FARCE OF THE CORONATION,

As it was performed at Newcastle upon Tyne, on Thursday, July 19th, 1821.

Sung by the "Swinish Mult.i.tude," in full Chorus.

The Castle guns were fir'd, and loud The bells rang in the morning, To wake the "Swinish Mult.i.tude,"

And give the public warning: That, "as in duty bound," the Mayor, And loyal Corporation, Would celebrate, in civic state, The day of Coronation!

With matchless liberality, The sums of money voted, That loyalty might be thereby Among the herd promoted: A feast would loyalize the brutes, Upon this great occasion, And make them sing, G.o.d save the King!

At George's Coronation.

Three royal fountains running beer, And one to dribble wine, O, Would make them flock from far and near, To grunt like loyal swine, O.

Two bullocks roasted whole, 'twas thought, Would be a grand donation, To toss among the "rabble rout,"

At George's Coronation!

'Twas done--the bullocks roasted were, The fountains set a flowing; While Butchers round, upon the ground, Huge lumps of beef were throwing: The loyal Swineherds looking on, In anxious expectation, To see each beast enjoy the feast At George's Coronation!

But what was their surprize to find The swinish herd refuse it; How strange! their tastes were so refin'd, No hog of sense would use it!

Our Gentry now, the loyal few, Beheld, with consternation, The scanty stock of loyalty At George's Coronation!

They saw, with grief, the roasted beef By saucy swine neglected!

No grateful beast extoll'd the feast, Nor loyalty respected!

Their swinish nature sure is chang'd-- O what an alteration!

Time was when pigs would grunt and squeel, To grace a Coronation!

But ah! the brutes display, at last, The faculty of Reason!

"The age of Chivalry is past!"

(Reflection most unpleasing!) And, sad to tell, with that is gone "Oth.e.l.lo's occupation!"

All servile reverence for a throne, And priestly domination!

Then why display this make-believe Affection and profusion?

Ye can no longer swine deceive, They see through the delusion.

What then avails this pageantry, And useless ostentation?

What signifies your loyalty At George's Coronation!

Had Derry-Down been on the spot, And view'd the scene before him, While beef, and bones, and bricks, like shot, Were flying _in terrorem_; He would have star'd, with wild affright, At such a consummation, And loudly d.a.m.n'd the useless farce Of George's Coronation!

Learn hence, ye Legislators wise, Ye guardians of our treasures!

The "Swinish Mult.i.tude" despise Your inconsistent measures: Think not that bayonets will gain The people's admiration; Or fix a Monarch on the throne, By a mock Coronation!

PICTURE OF NEWCASTLE;

_Or, George the Fourth's Coronation_.

BY WILLIAM MIDFORD.

Tune--"Arthur M'Bride."

The firing of guns, and the ringing of bells, Rous'd me from my dreams about magical spells; So I'll draw you a sketch, as we're now by oursel's, By way of an ill.u.s.tration: The roads to Newcastle were cover'd almost, As if Radical thunder[23] had summon'd its host, Or an enemy's fleet had been seen off the coast, On George the Fourth's Coronation.

In the streets what a buz among sweethearts and wives, And children who ne'er rose so soon in their lives; All higgledy piggledy through other drives, To view what was in preparation.

The oxen are roasting--outsides a mere crust; They're stuff'd wi' potatoes, and dredg'd well with dust, While the turnspits were set as if working o' trust, On George the Fourth's Coronation.

I next went to view a Boat-race on the Tyne, For a blue silken flag skill and labour combine; Gold sovereigns the prizes--to start about nine, From Walker, with precipitation.

The Greyhound came first, the old Sandgate-sh.o.r.e Gig, Which went as if chasing a hare, through the Brig.

No doubt but the wives and the la.s.ses were big, On George the Fourth's Coronation.

Then the Gentlemen walk'd in procession to church; Not even Dissenters did lag in the porch, But boldly push'd on, amid ruffles and starch, To praise and to pray with the nation.

The service being ended, the anthems are sung, The burnt sacrifice from each service is swung, When the fountains with wine and strong ale 'gan to run On George the Fourth's Coronation.

Then a Female Procession, to heighten the scene, Paraded the streets, with a bust of the Queen; When her t.i.tle was plac'd where a crown should have been-- Upon the crane-top was its station.