Produced by Jonathan Ingram and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber’s Note: Period and dialect spelling, inconsistent hyphenation, etc. are preserved as printed.
BEING A CURIOUS COLLECTION OF OLD AND NEW _SONGS AND POEMS_,
Peculiar to the Counties of _NEWCASTLE UPON TYNE, NORTHUMBERLAND, AND DURHAM_.
“NORTHUMBRIA’S SONS STAND FORTH, BY ALL CONFEST, THE FIRST AND FIRMEST OF FAIR FREEDOM’S TRAIN; EACH BRAVE NORTHUMBRIAN NURSES IN HIS BREAST THE SACRED SPARK, UNSULLIED BY A STAIN.”
Newcastle upon Tyne: Printed for John Bell, by M. Angus & Son, and sold by them, and other Booksellers in Town. MDCCCXII.
Proceed, ye generous friends of Tyne, And prosperous be your way; How happy, would our sons incline To catch the improving ray! With heart and hand your friendship join, Bring Taste and Genius forth; That all may own Newcastle Town, Emporium of the North.
_Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see,_ _Thinks what ne’er was, nor is, nor e’er shall be._
“Give me the writing of all the Ballads, for the people of England, and let who will be their law-giver,” was said by a celebrated orator, in speaking on the manners of the people:--this cheering ray, in behalf of ballad writing, gave rise to the publication of the following pages: for how many of these simple, yet popular effusions, have been lost for want of a repository to give them a chance of living a day beyond the time they were written?--As such, the _Summum Bonum_ of my labours is to rescue from the yawning jaws of oblivion the productions of the Bards of the Tyne; and by so doing, hand them down to future ages as Reliques of Provincial Poetry:--But, conscious of the liability of personal allusions in the generality of provincial poems, the words of the poet have been kept in mind:--
“Curs’d be the verse, how well soe’er it flow, Which tends to make one _worthy_ man my foe!”
Those who may have expected a matchless collection, and find it inferior to other poetical selections, will please to think of the following Italian proverb:--
“CHI LAVA LA TESTA AL ASINO PERDE IL SAPONE.”
With taste so true, and genius fine, The blythsome MINSTERELS of langsyne, Sung sweetly ’tween the Tweed and Tyne, Of war and love; Sounding their melody divine, Thro’ ev’ry grove.