EDWIN'S PILLS, &c, SONG

Long I will not wear the willow, Long I will not hug my pillow, In my breast a storm is brewing; Which shall spread fire, sword, and ruin, O'er these desolated coasts. This proud Arthur down shall knuckle, Dollalolla too shall truckle, Huncamunca shall knock under, Her I'll ravish, them I'll plunder; In fierce battle, I will rattle, Sinking, damning, slashing, cramming, Ev'ry chink of hell with ghosts.