Barber’s News: Or, Shields in an Uproar!!!
A New Song.
Tune—“O the golden Days of good Queen Bess.”
Great was the consternation, amazement, and dismay, Sir,
Which, both in North and South Shields, prevail’d the other day, Sir;
Quite panic-struck the natives were, when told by the barber,
That a terrible Sea Monster had got into the harbour.
“Have you heard the news Sir?” What news, pray master barber?
“Oh a terrible sea monster has got into the harbour!”
Now each honest man in Shields—I mean both North and South, Sir,
Delighting in occasions to expand their eyes and mouth, Sir:
And fond of seeing marv’lous sights, ne’er stay’d to get his beard off;
But ran to view the monster, its arrival, when he heard of.
Oh! who could think of shaving when inform’d by the barber,
That a terrible Sea Monster had got into the harbour.
Each wife pursu’d her husband, and every child its mother,
Lads and lasses helter skelter, scamper’d after one another;
Shopkeepers and mechanics too, forsook their daily labours,
And ran to gape and stare among their gaping staring neighbours.
All crowded to the river side, when told by the barber,
That a terrible Sea Monster had got into the harbour.
It happens very frequently that barber’s news is fiction, Sir,
But the wond’rous news this morning was truth no contradiction, Sir;
A something sure enough was there among the billows flouncing,
Now sinking in the deep profound, now on th’ surface bouncing.
True as Gazette or Gospel were the tidings of the barber,
That a terrible Sea Monster had got into the harbour.
Some thought it was a Shark, Sir, a Porpus some conceived it;
Some said it was a Grampus, and some a Whale believ’d it;
Some swore it was a Sea Horse, then own’d themselves mistaken,
For, now they’d got a nearer view—’twas certainly a Kraken.
Each sported his opinion, from the parson to the barber,
Of the terrible Sea Monster they had got in the harbour.
“Belay, belay,” a sailor cried, “what that, this thing, a Kraken!
’Tis no more like one, split my jib, than it is a flitch of bacon!
I’ve often seen a hundred such, all sporting in the Nile, Sir,
And you may trust a sailor’s word, it is a Crocodile, Sir.”
Each strait to Jack knocks under, from the parson to the barber,
And all agreed a Crocodile had got into the harbour.
Yet greatly Jack’s discovery his auditors did shock, Sir,
For they dreaded that the Salmon would be eat up by the Croc. Sir:
When presently the Crocodile, their consternation crowning,
Raised its head above the waves, and cried, “Help! O Lord, I’m drowning!”
Heavens! how their hair, Sir, stood on end, from the parson to the barber;
To find a Speaking Crocodile had got into the harbour.
This dreadful exclamation appall’d both young and old, Sir,
In the very stoutest hearts, indeed, it made the blood run cold, Sir;
Ev’n Jack, the hero of the Nile, it caus’d to quake and tremble,
Until an old wife, sighing, cried “Alas! ’tis Stephen K——.”
Heav’ns! however all astonish’d, from the parson to the barber,
To find that Stephen K—— was the monster in the harbour.
Strait crocodilish fears gave place to manly gen’rous strife, Sir,
Most willingly each lent a hand to save poor Stephen’s life, Sir;
They drag’d him gasping to the shore, impatient for his history,
For how he came in that sad plight, to them was quite a mystery.
Tears glisten’d, Sir, in every eye, from the parson to the barber,
When, swoln to thrice his natural size, they drag’d him from the harbour.
Now having roll’d and rubb’d him well an hour upon the beach, Sir,
He got upon his legs again, and made a serious speech, Sir;
Quoth he, “An ancient proverb says, and true it will be found, Sirs,
Those born to prove an airy doom, will surely never be drown’d, Sirs.
For fate, Sirs, has us all in tow, from the monarch to the barber;
Or surely I had breathed my last this morning in the harbour.
Resolv’d to cross the River, Sirs, a Sculler did I get into,
May Jonah’s ill-luck be mine, another when I step into!
Just when we’d reach’d the deepest part, O horror! there it founders,
And down went poor Pillgarlick amongst the Crabs and Flounders!
But fate, that keeps us all in tow, from the monarch to the barber,
Ordain’d I should not breathe my last, this morning in the harbour.
I’ve broke down many a stage coach, and many a chaise and gig, Sirs,
Once, in passing through a trap-hole, I found myself too big, Sirs,
I’ve been circumstanc’d most oddly, whilst contesting hard a race, Sirs,
But ne’er was half so frighten’d, as amongst the Crabs and Plaise, Sirs.
O fate, Sirs, keeps us all in tow, from the monarch to the barber,
Or certainly I’d breath’d my last, this morning in the harbour.
My friends, for your exertions, my heart o’erflows with gratitude,
O may it prove the last time, you find me in that latitude;
God knows with what mischances dire, the future may abound, Sirs,
But I hope and trust I’m one of those, not fated to be drown’d, Sirs.”
Thus ended his oration, Sir, I had it from the barber;
And dripping, like some River God, he slowly left the harbour.
Ye men of North and South Shields too, God send ye all prosperity,
May your commerce ever flourish, your stately ships still crowd the sea;
Unrivall’d in the Coal Trade, till doomsday may you stand, Sirs,
And every hour, fresh wonders, your eyes and mouths expand, Sirs.
And long may Stephen K—— live, and never may the barber
Mistake him for a monster more, deep floundering in the harbour.