The Downfall of the Dyke.
You've heard tell of this muckle dyke,
Built on the banks of Clyde, man,
That, has near stood the 6th year's flood,
And Winter's storm beside, man;
There's not a stone in Tammies dyke,
But cost a hundred pound, man,
But down 'twill go, like Jericho,
Quite level wish the ground man.
Fat lal de day, &c.
In eighteen hundred twenty-three,
The Parkhead lads paraded,
It did them goad, to see their road,
By a strong dyke blockaded;
With spade and pick, unto auld Nick,
This Muckle Dyke is driven,
These lads of fame had to remain,
For it, six' months' in prison.
On the next night, before 'twas light,
The Masons were collected,
With Stone and Lime, in a short time,
Again it was erected;
There it stood like a Pyramid,
To be a world's wonder,
Twas thought again the sons of men.
Could not pull it asunder.
Camlachie fo'k and Parkhead lads.
I'm sure they did not like, man,
To see the road their father's trod,
Clos'd by a muckle dyke, man;
They thought again, they might obtain.
Their liberty and right, man,
Which long had been withheld from them-
By casting in their mite, man.
The people then of Glasgow town,
Of every description,
Right frank and free, they did agree,
To raise up a subscription;
To Edinbro'the case did go,
In Court there to be try'd, man,
The dyke must fall, the lasses all,
May walk the banks of Clyde, man.
Now pride it is a cursed thing.
A mong Christians or Pagans,
'Twes pride, Sir, that sent Lucifer,
To the infernal regions;
This thing, call'd pride, I can't abide,
Since about pride I'm talking,
Twas pride, or the like, that built this dyke
To stop the fo'k from walking.
You Glasgow fo'k, I you invoke,
You country fo'k and a', man,
Your voices raise, let bonfires blaze,
The Muckle Dyke must fa', man;
Fill up a gill, with free gude will,
And haste, ye lads, round send it.
Poor Tammie's done, now that's the fun,
And so my song I'll end it.
W. Carse, Printer, Glasgow.
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Probable date published:
1828 shelfmark: APS.4.98.6(1)
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