A caravan crowded, came here from the east, With _Bengal_ bred bipeds, and _Bot’ney Bay_ beasts; Stage-tumblers, and walkers upon the slack wire, And dancing dogs deck’d out in harlequin ’tire; Eke, eight _British_ badgers brought back in a box, The big and the beautiful _Berwickshire_ ox; With all tricks by slight hand of nature and art, To add to the eclat of mayor Millar’s mart. Close by the mayor’s mansion, expos’d are in pens, A local collection of cocks and of hens; Ducks, turkies, and pigeons in sunkets are seen, And pack-sacks presented with grey geese and green: With well cul’d canaries confin’d close in cages, And song birds of all sorts and sizes and ages; Whose quavering chorus both cheer and divert The cohorts convened at mayor Millar’s mart. Here potters, with panniers of Stafford and Delph, And chests of choice china to shine on the shelf; Here’s hampers of hardware--plate--polish’d and plain, With all tin utensils of varnish and stain: Here’s statues of stucco, Dutch trinkets, and toys, And bawlers of ballads, of nonsense, and noise! Here cadgers of commerce, commodities cart, With hucksters and hawkers, to mayor Millar’s mart. From _Morpeth_, _Newcastle_, and _London_ likewise, The puffers of paste here expose _penny pies_! With cheese cakes and custards and other confects, Of rare aromatics, and summer selects: Scarce kickshaws more costly can be chew’d with chaps, Yet somewhat less sav’ry than _Silas Swain’s_[69] snaps, Which powerful perfumes to the palates impart, Of alamode essence in mayor Millar’s mart. Hotels for highflyers, and Inns little worse, With good entertainment for man and for horse; Here’s baskets of butter, beef, bacon, bread, beer, With fleshers, fishmongers, and other choice cheer, To buoy up the belly, and burnish the back; Who have ready rhino need nothing to lack;-- Fairs formerly fam’d now begin to loss heart, Since all Adam’s offspring prefer Millar’s mart. Coquetarious. [67] The name of a neighbouring farm. [68] The fattest kyloe stot ever killed in the county. [69] A Confectioner in that town, a man of considerable humour and fun. GO ALL TO COQUET AND WOO. Northumberland lads are handsome squads, And female affiance must share; If you wish to wed, betroth to bed, One cull’d with caution and care. I here make free--give ear to me, The county I’ve scan’d around; So from the mass select a lass, Where virtue and beauties abound. The lasses of TWEED are deft indeed, Their garlands give such grace: The lasses of TILL are sprightly still, In figure, in fashion, and face. The lasses of BREMISH look rather squeamish, Embellish’d with elegant ease; The lasses of ALE, for plumage prevail, Their pomp and appendages please.