SONG, written in 1756

The lilies of France, and the fair English rose, Cou'd never agree, as old history shews; But our Edwards and Henrys those lilies have torn, And in their gay standards such ensigns have borne, To shew that Old England, beneath her strong lance, Has humbled the pride and the glory of France.

What would those monsieurs, would they know how they ran? Let them look at the annals of glorious queen Anne. We heat them by sea, and we beat them by land, When Marlbro' and Russel enjoy'd the command, And we'll beat 'em again boys: so let 'em advance: Old England despises the insults of France.

Why let the grand monarch assemble his host, And threaten invasions on Englands fair coast, We bid them defiance: so let 'em come on, Have at 'em; their business shall quickly be done; Monsieurs, we will teach ye a new English dance T' our grenadier-march, which shall frighten all France.

Our sov'reign, his soldiers, his sailors, are brave; They'll triumph on land, or they'll triumph by wave; What cause is so glorious to claim our last blood, A country so blest, and a monarch so good: Fair freedom smiles on us whose soul-chearing glance Ne'er beam'd on the slaves, or the nobles of France.

Let us take up our muskets, and gird on our swords, And monsieurs, ye'll find us as good as our words; Beat drums, trumpets sound, and huzza for our king, Then welcome, Bellcisle, with what troops thou can'st bring. Huzza for Old England, whose strong-pointed lance Shall humble the pride and the glory of France.