NORTHUMBRIA'S PRIDE. 151 



Ilk bard o' auld Tyne may rejoice in its glory, 

 An' brag o' its vales clad wi' posies sae fair, 



An' sing o' its heroes an' auld castles hoary, 

 But nane o' them a' can wi' Coquet compare. 



They boast o' their "Staward" where nature 



rejoices, 

 An' chant o' their glens an' ilk wee wimplin' 



burn; 



But our streams, rills, an' birdies wi' sweet joy- 

 ful voices, 

 Trill' d sweetly a welcome when Coughron was 



born. 

 Yetlang, lovely Coquet, hast thou been neglected, 



I'm wae for to see thee left oot i' the cauld, 

 To gaze on ilk scene on thy bosom reflected, 

 Will aye warm my heart tho' I'm weary an* 

 auld. 



How sweetly thou glides in thy sweet silvery 



beauty, 

 Through groves where Pomona might sigh to 



repose ; 

 Thou scoops out thy course where there's nought 



to pollute thee, 

 As on to the ocean thou murmuring flows. 



