 | Songs, comic and satyrical |  |
DITTO.
Let those who love Helicon sip at its streams,
And chill'd by cold water, doze spiritless dreams;
No aid I'll invoke from a tea-drinking Muse,
But bumper me Bacchus to toast the True Blues.
Sing tantararara True Blue.
And chill'd by cold water, doze spiritless dreams;
No aid I'll invoke from a tea-drinking Muse,
But bumper me Bacchus to toast the True Blues.
Sing tantararara True Blue.
30
No man slaying hero's rash deeds I rehearse,
Nor shall Strephon's sighs sadly whine in my verse;
To Friendship, to Freedom, this sonnet is due,
And Friendship and Freedom become a True Blue.
Nor shall Strephon's sighs sadly whine in my verse;
To Friendship, to Freedom, this sonnet is due,
And Friendship and Freedom become a True Blue.
Wrong'd Nature to Newton from Dullness appeal'd,
Mankind he enlighten'd, bright vision reveal'd;
All colours examin'd, and found upon view
One chief, one unchang'd, and he nam'd it True Blue.
Mankind he enlighten'd, bright vision reveal'd;
All colours examin'd, and found upon view
One chief, one unchang'd, and he nam'd it True Blue.
Kings, Statesmen, and Patriots, illustrious chuse
The slant azure bandage, the mark of True Blues;
To Britain's chief knighthood the Garter is due,
And that honour'd Ribbon is spotless True Blue.
The slant azure bandage, the mark of True Blues;
To Britain's chief knighthood the Garter is due,
And that honour'd Ribbon is spotless True Blue.
To furnish, with Science, the sons of the earth,
Olympus the goddess of Wisdom brought forth;
Her eyes, Paris own'd, were the brightest he knew,
And their lustre, quoth Homer, is sparkling True Blue.
Olympus the goddess of Wisdom brought forth;
Her eyes, Paris own'd, were the brightest he knew,
And their lustre, quoth Homer, is sparkling True Blue.
In spring, when Creation her blossoms resumes,
And field-flowers fill the rich air with perfumes;
What sky-colour, tell me, the sun best looks through?
The atmosphere's clearest when clouds are True Blue.
And field-flowers fill the rich air with perfumes;
What sky-colour, tell me, the sun best looks through?
The atmosphere's clearest when clouds are True Blue.
To sully that standard each social disdains,
The tint of True Blue bids defiance to stains;
On the breast of each Brother the Ribbon we view,
Which shews, that at heart he is pure and True Blue.
The tint of True Blue bids defiance to stains;
On the breast of each Brother the Ribbon we view,
Which shews, that at heart he is pure and True Blue.
When Liberty ling'ring, Hibernia quits,
And Honour to passive Obedience submits;
Public Spirit to Ireland then bids adieu,
Adieu, lads, to life then, then farewell True Blue.
And Honour to passive Obedience submits;
Public Spirit to Ireland then bids adieu,
Adieu, lads, to life then, then farewell True Blue.
| Songs, comic and satyrical | |