Works

I have just had a Letter from Birdey, as we now call my eldest Daughter; all is well at Brighthelmstone, and She seems delighted with her Verses : yet prefers some I wrote lately in Answer to the Seditious Ballad called “; “;Plant, Plant the Tree”; ”;. it is really a scandalous Performance, just good enough to deserve the Reply, which shall be written out after the Original, which Sophy sent me a few Weeks ago from Sussex,

See, See, they come, the Myriads come
    From Gallia to invade us,
Prepare the Pike, beat beat the Drum
    They come my Friends to aid us

        Plant, Plant the Tree
            The glorious Tree
        Midst Bloodshed Death & Slaughter
            Each Patriots Breast its Soil shall be
        And the Tyrants Blood its Water.

The useless Crown which long adorn’d
    The heads of Royal Ninnies¹,
To better Ends Shall now be turn’d
    Coyn’d into useful Guineas.

        Then plant the Tree, the glorious Tree
            Midst Battle Blood and Slaughter,
        Each patriot Breast its Soil shall be
            And Tyrant’s Blood its Water.

The Palace which in Ages past
    For Sov’reigns was appointed;
The Sovereign People claim at last,
    And scorn the Lords Anointed.

        Then plant the Tree fair Freedom’s Tree,
            Mid Blood & Wounds & Slaughter,
        Each Patriot Breast its Soil shall be
            And Royal Blood its Water.

On all your holy Mummeries
    Our Boys contemptuous trample;
That Church that seems to prop the Skies
    Shall turn to Reason’s Temple.

        Then plant Oh Plant the glorious
            Tree Midst Battle Blood & Slaughter,
        Each patriot Breast its Soil shall be
            And the Tyrant’s Blood its Water.

Our ’Squires shall then Ça Ira Sing
    Nor more be tender hearted,
Your Bells no more to Church shall ring
    To thundring Guns converted.

        Plant plant the Tree the glorious Tree
            Midst Bloodshed Wounds & Slaughter;
        Each Patriot Breast its Soil shall be,
            And the Royal Blood its Water.

The Stocks like Mist upon the Hills
    Shall vanish out of Sight Sir;
And Abraham Newlands² fam’d Bank Bills
    Be turn’d to Paper Kites Sir:

        Then plant Oh plant fair Freedoms Tree,
            Midst Bloodshed Death & Slaughter
        Each Patriots Breast its Soil shall be
            And the Tyrants Blood its Water

The Commons³ too that say forsooth
    They represent the Nation,
Shall scamper East West North & South
    To ’scape our Indignation.

        Then plant the Tree the glorious Tree
            Midst Death & Wounds & Slaughter
        Each Patriot Breast its Soil shall be
            And Tyrant’s Blood its Water.

Footnotes

1. Slang, meaning silly.↩︎
2. Cashier of the Bank of England, whose signature appeared on bank notes, which were for a while known as 'Abraham Newlands'.↩︎
3. The House of Commons.↩︎