A BATTLE, A BATTLE, &c

In Days of Yore, our Annals say, The Saints would sit at home and pray, But not vouchsafe to stir an Inch Or lend Assistance at a Pinch; Tho' for their King's and Country's good; Stiff to their Text the Quakers stood.

FOR Feuds and Quarrels they abhor 'em, The LORD will fight their Battles for 'em. In this of late they were so stanch As not to move against the French. The few that did they roughly handle, And curse with Bell, with Book and Candle.

THEY read 'em out, and rank'd 'em in A Class they call'd the Men of Sin. But now the Case is alter'd quite, And what was wrong, is chang'd to Right. These very Drones, these sluggish Cattle, Prepare their Guns and Swords for Battle.

So Acts the sly perfidious Bat, Sometimes for this side, sometimes that.

WHEN first Duke Mushroom silence broke, And thus in croaking Accents spoke. When Dangers threaten, 'tis mere Nonsense, To talk of such a Thing as Conscience: Conscience a Net has ever been, To catch religious Woodcocks in: But (as it is most just and fit) Was made for us, not we for it. To be contracted, or stretch'd wide, As were the Thongs of Dido's Hide. And he whose is too great or small Must answer for just none at all.

WHERE Quaker Notions lead the Way, Conscience implicit must obey. For we, just like three Legs in Man, Quocunque jeceris, will stand: And have a Salve for ev'ry Sore, What can a Mortal wish for more? Henceforth let two and two make six, Or any Number you shall fix: Let no one contradict you when You say in four are Units ten:

For plain it is, and sure's a Gun, Four contain four, three, two and One.

OF human Pride, tho' it may savour, Let us exert our own endeavour; Nor like our Fathers stand like Posts, And leave all to the Lord of Hosts. Our Happiness for ought we know May be, durante Placito,

AND he may think he's done enough Nor longer will stand by the Stuff; Therefore for future, be it known, We'll not confide in GOD alone, But shew the World that we inherit The Arm of Flesh, with Sword and Spirit.

WHEN we begin, we'll on Pel Mel And drive the Paxton Dogs to H—l But, hark! the Horn sounds an Express From B, from R, from H, and S. The Paxton Boys are coming down, To kill us all, and burn the Town. To Arms, to Arms with one Accord, The Sword of Quakers and the Lord! Let no one stand with hands in Pocket Each Meeting Door—quick, quick unlock it! Be all our Forces hither led, With beating Drums, and Colours spread.

LET Trumpets sound, and Hautboys play, And set the Battle in Array; Nor absent be the Pipe and Tabor, To chear your hearts, and ease your Labour: Cock up your Hats, look fierce and trim Not wear the horizontal Brim, The House of Prayer be made a Den Not of vile Thieves, but armed Men: Tho' 'tis indeed a Prophanation Which we must expiate with Lustration.

But such the present Time requires And such are all the Friends Desires Fill Bumpers then, of Rum or' Arrack We'll drink Success to the new Barrack; He said, they all approv'd the Cause And in full concert groan'd Applause.

NOW News arriv'd that Paxton Men, Were come within nine Miles or ten; The City's fill'd with Sighs and Groans Tales of raw heads, and bloody Bones; While some take heart and go to meet The Fiends they heard had cloven Feet.

THEY came, they saw, they found 'em civil With no intent of Harm or Evil But humbly to request Redress For cruel Indians Wickedness; And to expose a Jugler's Box, Contriv'd by P—n and F—x By which, they with a Magic Trick Could shew white Folks as black's Oldnick And what's as wonderful agen, Make Indian Villains honest Men.

AND thus they charge most wicked Facts on The worthy bleeding Men of Paxton. But with our Foes hold strickt Alliance And bid all Government Defiance. For what care they? good Furs and Skins Will hide a Multitude of Sins.

REDRESS is promis'd, They content Paid off their Hosts, and home they went.

THESE, these are they, who always chose T'engage their King's and Country's Foes Whose Grandsires too were bravely willing To fight or die at Ineskilling. Go on good Lads! and scorn what's base, And live, t' enjoy Health, Wealth and Peace

BUT who from henceforth will believe That Babes of Grace cannot deceive? Since outward Sanctity is made A Cloak for all the Quaker Trade

To call't Religion would blaspheme, That sacred venerable Name. But now I drop my weary Pen, Till a new Theme calls for't agen,