2. The arch-rebels, barefooted tatterdemalions,
In baseness exceed all other rebellions,
With their hunting-shirts, etc.
To rend the empire, the most infamous lies,
Their mock-patriot Congress, do always devise;
Independence, like the First of rebels, they claim,
But their plots will be damn'd in the annals of fame,
With their hunting-shirts, and rifle guns.
3. Forgetting the mercies of Great Britain's king,
Who saved their forefathers' necks from the string;
With their hunting-shirts, etc.
They renounce allegiance and take up their arms,
Assemble together like hornets in swarms,
So lousy their back, and so wretched their show,
That carrion-crow follows wherever they go,
With their hunting-shirts, and rifle guns.
4. With loud peals of laughter, your sides, sirs, would crack,
To see General Convict and Colonel Shoe-black,
With their hunting-shirts, and rifle guns.
See cobblers and quacks, rebel-priests and the like,
Pettifoggers and barbers, with sword and with pike,
All strutting, the standard of Satan beside,
And honest names using, their black deeds to hide.
With their hunting-shirts, and rifle guns. |
5. This perjured banditti, now ruin this land,
And o'er its poor people claim lawless command,
With their hunting-shirts, and rifle guns.
Their paste-board Dollars, prove a common curse,
They don't chink like silver and gold in our purse;
With nothing their leaders have paid their debts off,
Their honour's dishonour, and justice their scoff,
With their hunting-shirts, and rifle guns.
6. For one lawful ruler, many tyrants we've got,
Who force young and old to their wars, to be shot,
With their hunting-shirts, and rifle guns.
Our good King, God speed him! Never used men so,
We then could speak, act, and like freemen could go;
But committees enslave us, our Liberty's gone,
Our trade and church murder'd; our country's undone,
By their hunting-shirts, and rifle guns.
7. Come take up your glasses, each true loyal heart,
And may every rebel meet his due dessert,
With their hunting-shirts, and rifle guns.
May Congress, Conventions, those damn'd inquisitions,
Be fed with hot sulphur, from Lucifer's kitchen,
May commerce and peace again be restored,
And Americans own their true sovereign lord.
Then oblivion to shirts, and rifle guns.
God Save the King! |
