Ipswich Born
Yes sir I was in Ipswich born
I glory in the name
Some speak it with contemptuous scorn
To me it breaths of fame.
I’m proud of my nativity
I love old Ipswich hills
Each babbling brook and valley green
With pride my bosom fills.
I love her woods and rugged rocks,
I love her wave-washed shore
I love to walk her sandy beach
And hear the breakers roar.
We’ve hills as high as any sir
In other towns are seen
Town Hill and good old Heartbreak
And good old Meeting House Green.
We have our lovely river too
Sure that you need not spurn
Although not quite so broad as some
W e find it serves our turn.
Old Ipswich names! Where are they not?
There found in every clime
Its sons are known from pole to pole.
‘Twill live through every time.
Old Ipswich hearts are ever true
They’re constant, faithful too
We ne’re forget a long tried friend
Though often finding new.
Then sound her glory, O ye waves
Ye birds that proudly soar
We’ll cling to Ipswich hills and dales
And praise her more and more.
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Written many years ago by an eccentric hermit named George Caldwell who lived at 84 East Street.