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82
NEW ENGLAND TEA-CHORUS.
Does our mother England believe
Her offspring in spirit so tame,
As calmly her arrogance still to receive,
While prizing her blood and her name?
'T is good to be filial, and do
Our duty, whate'er it may be;
'T is good to our country and rights to be true,
And wary in taking our tea.
Hurrah for the duties on tea!
To pay them all ready are we;
The Mohawk has lent us his blanket and hue:
We ... 're off to the ships with the tea.
Her offspring in spirit so tame,
As calmly her arrogance still to receive,
While prizing her blood and her name?
'T is good to be filial, and do
Our duty, whate'er it may be;
'T is good to our country and rights to be true,
And wary in taking our tea.
Hurrah for the duties on tea!
To pay them all ready are we;
The Mohawk has lent us his blanket and hue:
We ... 're off to the ships with the tea.
Here 's a health, good captains on board
These proud royal vessels so fair!
The king will we pledge o'er your savory hoard,
On deck, if you please, in the air.
'T is good, when a monarch's behest
Is insult with wrong, to agree—
Deciding ourselves—on the currency best
To settle our duties on tea.
Hurrah for your cargoes of tea,
That balm from the sweet Indian tree!
A stroke of the tomahawk stamping each chest,
Th ... us marks them all entered and free!
These proud royal vessels so fair!
The king will we pledge o'er your savory hoard,
On deck, if you please, in the air.
'T is good, when a monarch's behest
Is insult with wrong, to agree—
Deciding ourselves—on the currency best
To settle our duties on tea.
Hurrah for your cargoes of tea,
That balm from the sweet Indian tree!
A stroke of the tomahawk stamping each chest,
Th ... us marks them all entered and free!
83
O, the precious odors that spread
On the breeze, like Liberty's wing,
Go off in a cloud to envelop the head,
And rest on the throne of our king.
If, proving electric, it shock
His Majesty's minions, and he
And they but the tighter our fetters would lock,
We 'll raffle with George for the key.
Hurrah! does none bid on the tea
A duty of pence,—one—two—three?
Our auctioneer-hammer approaches the block;
Go ... going, gone—into the sea!
On the breeze, like Liberty's wing,
Go off in a cloud to envelop the head,
And rest on the throne of our king.
If, proving electric, it shock
His Majesty's minions, and he
And they but the tighter our fetters would lock,
We 'll raffle with George for the key.
Hurrah! does none bid on the tea
A duty of pence,—one—two—three?
Our auctioneer-hammer approaches the block;
Go ... going, gone—into the sea!
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