Think--urg’d by curiosity, To climb the Spital walls, Should any of thy neighbours there, Sad, break their necks by falls. O would not such mischances dire Be justly charg’d on thee, Who keeps the Association Lads Thus under lock and key? Imagine not thy warriors brave, To glory who aspire, Whilst thus _confin’d_ in Blackett’s field, Their station much admire! Ah! no; in _Heaton cellars_ they Would rather chuse to be, Most jovial, _carrying on the war_, All under lock and key! Whilst War’s horrific clangours Resound throughout the land, Still may’st thou, gallant Ridley, Thy town’s-men brave command: And, oh! that with your martial toils Delighted I may be, Ope wide the door of Blackett’s field; Then break the lock and key! KIVER AWA’. Like the wolves of the forest, ferocious and keen, The French our blest shores may invade! But in arms are the _Gotham Invincibles seen_, And who’s of invasion afraid? With ardour heroic each bosom inflames, No dangers impress them with awe; And merry they seem, when thus----exclaims,-- “Kiver awa’, Kiver awa’, Kiver awa’.” Ye matrons be cheerful, ye virgins be gay, Your protectors are valiant and true: No more feel alarm’d, as your charms you survey, At what Frenchmen _may venture to do_; No danger shall reach you, no impudent Gaul, Shall fill your soft bosoms with awe; Whilst in tones energetic, thus ---- can bawl,-- “Kiver awa’, Kiver awa’, Kiver awa”. No more let the wight, to misfortune a prey, For relief to the bottle apply; But to chace ev’ry painful remembrance away, To _Parade_ let him instantly hie; There ----, whilst ardently toiling for fame, Each thorn from his bosom shall draw: Ah! who can be sad, when they hear him exclaim,-- “Kiver awa’, Kiver awa’, Kiver awa’.” Heav’n prosper thee, Gotham! thou famous old town, Of the Tyne the chief glory and pride: May thy heroes acquire immortal renown, In the dread field of Mars, when they’re try’d: Amongst them, O ne’er may _flincher_ be found; And that mirth they from _duty_ may draw, Long, long, through their ranks may these accents resound,-- “Kiver awa’, Kiver awa’, Kiver awa’.” _November, 1804._ BRITANNIA’S VOLUNTEERS. _By S.G. Kemble, Esq. of Newcastle._ Tune--The Newcastle Volunteers’ quick March. When unprovok’d, when foreign foes, When danger gave occasion, Britannia’s Volunteers arose, To shield her from invasion. And still whilst other nations bow, And lowly seek alliance, Should France transgress again, they vow To hurl a bold defiance. The Sons of Tyne,--a youthful band,-- With ardent resolution, First arm’d to guard their native land, Their King and Constitution: Again, whene’er the cause invites, Our liberties revering, To guard those dear, those sacred rights, They’ll go a volunteering.