Old North Sydney

They're shifting old North Sydney— Perhaps ’tis just as well— They’re carting off the houses Where the old folks used to dwell. Where only ghosts inhabit They lay the old shops low; But the Spirit of North Sydney, It vanished long ago. The Spirit of North Sydney, The good old time and style, It camped, maybe, at Crow’s Nest, But only for a while. It left about the season, Or at the time, perhaps, When old Inspector Cotter Transferred his jokes and traps. A brand new crowd is thronging The brand new streets aglow Where the Spirit of North Sydney Would gossip long ago. They will not know to-morrow— Tho’ ’twere but yesterday— Exactly how McMahon’s Point And its ferry used to lay. The good old friendly spirit Its sorrows would unfold, When householders were neighbours And shop-keeping was old; But now we’re busy strangers, Our feelings we restrain— The Spirit of North Sydney Shall never come again!