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He left him what was better yet,
At least it was more use, sir,
A very good excuse, sir.
To stay, unless he ruled the sea,
He thought would not be right, sir,
On islands should not fight, sir,
Another cause with these combined,
To throw him in the dumps, sir,
And made him stir his stumps, sir.
(Rivington's Royal Gazette. 1778.]
EJOICE, Americans, rejoice! !
Praise ye the Lord with heart and voice!
But when your joy gives way to reason,
Tired out with happiness, the frogs
“Famed, as we are, for faith and prayer, We merit sure peculiar care; But can we think great good was meant us, When logs for Governors were sent us? “Which numbers crushed they fell upon, And caused great fear,--till one by one, As courage came, we boldly faced 'em, Then leaped upon 'em, and disgraced 'em! “Great Jove,” they croaked, “no longer fool us, None but ourselves are fit to rule us; We are too large, too free a nation,
To be encumbered with taxation! VOL, II.-23
No courtiers now their friends deceive
With promises of favor; For what they made 'em once believe
Is done and done forever.
Our nobles-Heaven defend us all!
I'll nothing say about 'em; For they are great and I'm but small,
So muse, jog on without 'em.
Our gentry are a virtuous race,
Despising earthly treasures; Fond of true honor's noble chase,
And quite averse to pleasures.
The ladies dress so plain indeed,
You'd think 'em Quakers all, Witness the wool-packs on their heads,
So comely and so small.
No tradesman now forsakes his shop,
For politics or news; Or takes his dealer at a hop
Through interested views.
No soaking sot forsakes his spouse
For mugs of mantling nappy; Nor taverns tempt him from his house,
Where all are pleased and happy.
Our frugal taste the State secures,
Whence then can woes begin? For luxury's turned out of doors,
And prudence taken in.
Froin hence proceeds the abundant flow
Of plenty through the land; Where all provisions, all men know,
Are cheap on every hand.
No pleasure-chaises fill the streets,
Nor crowd the roads on Sunday; So horses, ambling through the week,
Obtain a respite one day.
All gaming, tricking, swearing, lying,
Is grown quite out of fashion; For modern youth's so self-denying
It flies all lawless passion.
Happy the nation thus endowed!
So void of wants and crimes;
Oh! these are glorious times.
Your characters (with wondering stare
Cries Tom) are mighty high, sir;
I think they're all a lie, sir.
Ha! think you so, my honest clown?
Then take another light on't;
I fear you'll see the right on't.
[Published in 1781, after the Surrender of Cornwallis.]
CORNWALLIS led a country dance,
And all with General Greene, sir.
They rambled up and rambled down,
Joined hands, then off they run, sir,
The earl to Wilmington, sir.
Greene in the South then danced a set,
And got a mighty name, sir,
But suffered in his fame, sir.
Then down he figured to the shore,
Most like a lordly dancer,
He would no more advance, sir.
Quoth he, my guards are weary grown
With footing country dances,
At capers, kicks or prances.
Though men so gallant ne'er were seen,
While sauntering on parade, sir,
Or at a masquerade, sir,
Yet are red heels and long-laced skirts,
For stumps and briars meet, sir ?
Or hardy veteran feet, sir?
Now housed in York he challenged all,
At minuet or all 'amande,
His guards by day and night conned.
This challenge known, full soon there came,
A set who had the bon ton,
Fut brillant pour un long tems.
And Washington, Columbia's son,
Whom easy nature taught, sir,
Or Plutus' gold be bought, sir.
Now band in hand they circle round
This ever-dancing peer, sir;
The earl as they draw near, sir.
His music soon forgets to play
His feet can no more move, sir,
They jiggèd to our shore, sir.
Now Tories all, what can ye say?
Come-is not this a griper,
'Tis you must pay the piper ?
(Tory Song, to the tune of " Nancy Dawson.” Printed in Towne's Evening Post. 1776.]
Y Tories all rejoice and sin,
Success to George our gracious king;
And execrate the Congress.
These hardy knaves and stupid fools,
These, these compose the Congress.