The Toast.

Instead of a song, boys, I'll give you a toast— Here's the memory of those on the twelfth that we lost!— That we lost, did I say? nay, by Heav'n, that we found; For their fame it shall last while the world goes round. The next in succession, I'll give you—the King! Whoe'er would betray him, on high may he swing; And here's the grand fabric, our free Constitution, As built on the base of the great Revolution; And longer with politics not to be cramm'd, Be Anarchy curs'd, and be Tyranny damn'd; And who would to Liberty e'er prove disloyal, May his son be a hangman, and he his first trial.