Our fairs I next will celebrate, With scores of graziers, hinds and jockeys; And bumpkins yok’d with Nell and Kate, Who stare like any pig that stuck is: Fat horned beasts now line our streets, Which Aldermen were wont to pace on; And oxen low, and lambkins bleat, And all for Stockton’s commendation[73]. Our races too deserve a tune, The northern sportsmen all prefer ’em, For _Dainty Davy_ here did run Much better then at York or Durham. O ’twould take up a swingeing volume, To sing at large our reputation; Our bridge, our shambles, cross and column, All speak fair Stockton’s commendation. Fill then your jovial bumpers round, Join chorus all in Stockton’s glory; Let us but love our native town, A fig for patriot, whig, or tory; Whate’er they say, whate’er they do, Their aim is but to fleece the nation; Let us continue firm and true To honest Stockton’s commendation. [73] During the scarcity of change in 1811-12, the people of Stockton issued out silver tokens of sixpence and twelve-pence value, the only tokens issued in the county. HARK TO WINCHESTER: OR, THE _Yorkshire Volunteers’ Farewell to the good Folks of Stockton._ _Tune_,--Push about the Jorum. Ye Stockton lads and lasses too, Come listen to my story; A dismal tale, because ’tis true, I’ve now to lay before ye: We must away, our rout is come, We scarce refrain from tears, O: Shrill shrieks the fife, rough roars the drum,-- March, Yorkshire Volunteers, O! Fal lal lal la ral. Yet ere we part, my comrades say, Come, Stockhore[74], you’re the poet, If e’er you pen’d a grateful lay, ’Tis now the time to show it. Such usage fair in this good town, We’ve met from age and youth, sirs, Accept our grateful thanks, and own A poet sings the truth, sirs. Fal lal, &c. Ye lasses too, of all I see, The fairest in the nation; Sweet buds of beauty’s blooming tree, The top of the creation; Full many of our lads I ween, Have got good wives and true, sirs; I wonder what our leaders mean, They have not done so too, sirs. Fal lal, &c. Perhaps----but hark! the thund’ring drum, From love to arms is beating; Our country calls; we come, we come, Great George’s praise repeating: He’s great and good, long may he here Reign, every bliss possessing; And long may each true volunteer Behold him Britain’s blessing. Fal lal, &c. Our valiant Earl shall lead us on The nearest way to glory, Bright honour hails her darling son, And fame records his story. Dundas commands upon our lists The second; though on earth, sirs, No one he’s second to exists, For courage, sense, and worth, sirs. Fal lal, &c.