Songs, Song

How happy a Mason whose bosom still glows With friendship, and ever most cheerfully goes, Th' effects of the mysteries lodg'd in his breast, Misteries rever'd, and by Princes possest. Our friends and our bottle we best can enjoy, No rancour or envy our quiet annoy, Our plumbline and compass, our square and our tools, Direct all our actions in Virtue's fair rules, Direct all our actions, &c.

To Mars and to Venus we're equally true, Our hearts can enliven, our arms can subdue; Let the enemy tell, and the ladies declare, No class or profession with Masons compare; To give a fond lustre we ne'er need a crest, Since honour and virtue remain in our breast. We'll charm the rude world when we clap, laugh, and sing, If so happy a mason, say who'd be a king;