Works

I am sick of the French Politicks, and wish the Discourse at an end, tho’ not the Disturbances of a People who delight in disturbing the Tranquillity of every other Nation¹. I made these popular Verses for a public Paper the other day they were not printed though.

1.

Whilst in passionate Mood
Our mad Neighbours with Blood,
    Delight their poor Country to drench;
Let us British Boys sing,
Drink a Health to the King
    And ne’er be such Fools as the French.
            The French
    And ne’er be such Fools as the French.

2.

All enamour’d they are
Of young Freedom the Fair,
    Yet know not the Trim of their Wench;
But think Liberty’s Joy
Is Sink, Burn, and destroy,
    Why our Rodney’d do that for the French.
            &c

3.

What our Edwards had done
Both Father and Son
    From their Monarch the Sceptre to wrench,
These comical Elves
Will now do for themselves
    And scarce leave him the King of the French.

4.

When our Brother and we
Disputed for Tea,
    And Lord North grac’d the Treasury Bench;
Fomenting Vexations
They injur’d both Nations
    Such Traytors & Rogues are the French.

5.

Dank Holland they swore
They would render so poor,
    They’d not leave her an Eel nor a Tench:
But there they were bit,
Thanks to our Billy Pitt,
    And none fish in foul Streams but the French, the French,
    And none fish in foul Streams but the French.

Footnotes

1. Written at the time of the French Revolution.↩︎