The Revels of the Gods or, a Ramble thro' the Heavens [by Edward Ward] |
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THE Dutch-Guards Farewel TO ENGLAND. |
 | The Revels of the Gods |  |
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THE Dutch-Guards Farewel TO ENGLAND.
In Times of Great Danger, have we been so Civil,
To save your Religion from Pope and the Devil?
The Freedoms and Laws which your Kingdom may boast,
Have we lost Restor'd 'em, before they were Lost?
Your Lives we Preserv'd, from the Priests Bloody Slaughter,
Endang'ring our Own by our Crossing the Water.
We might have been Kill'd too, but that we were Cunning,
And turning our Tails, sav'd our selves by our Running.
Must these our Adventures with Shame be Rewarded
And not in the Leiger of Fame be Recorded?
Must we, the Battalions of Chosen Dutch Skaters,
Be drove by a Law from your Wives and your Daughters,
And kick'd from the Crown, like a parcel of Traytors?
Must we that Redeem'd you from Pop'ry & Slav'ry,
And made you all Free in the use of your Knav'ry,
Be Recompenc'd thus for our Courage and Brav'ry?
O England! O England! 'Tis very hard Measure;
And things done in Haste, are Repented at Leisure.
To save your Religion from Pope and the Devil?
The Freedoms and Laws which your Kingdom may boast,
Have we lost Restor'd 'em, before they were Lost?
Your Lives we Preserv'd, from the Priests Bloody Slaughter,
Endang'ring our Own by our Crossing the Water.
We might have been Kill'd too, but that we were Cunning,
And turning our Tails, sav'd our selves by our Running.
Must these our Adventures with Shame be Rewarded
And not in the Leiger of Fame be Recorded?
Must we, the Battalions of Chosen Dutch Skaters,
Be drove by a Law from your Wives and your Daughters,
And kick'd from the Crown, like a parcel of Traytors?
Must we that Redeem'd you from Pop'ry & Slav'ry,
And made you all Free in the use of your Knav'ry,
Be Recompenc'd thus for our Courage and Brav'ry?
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And things done in Haste, are Repented at Leisure.
But since we are forc'd to take leave of your Nation,
And Lope Scellum after a very Odd fashion;
Where our Frows and our Skildren were happily Settled;
To Tell you the Truth, we are damnably Nettled.
We bid you farewel, since we're bound to forsake-ye;
And heartily Wish a French Devil may take-ye;
May Discords Domestick arise and Consound-ye;
And Lewis this Summer with Forces Surround-ye.
May your Taxes encrease, till it quite has undone-ye;
And the Dutch run away with your Trade and your Money.
In the Midst of all which, may your Bankers forsake-ye;
And run with their Treasure to Holland and break-ye.
And Lope Scellum after a very Odd fashion;
Where our Frows and our Skildren were happily Settled;
To Tell you the Truth, we are damnably Nettled.
We bid you farewel, since we're bound to forsake-ye;
And heartily Wish a French Devil may take-ye;
May Discords Domestick arise and Consound-ye;
And Lewis this Summer with Forces Surround-ye.
May your Taxes encrease, till it quite has undone-ye;
And the Dutch run away with your Trade and your Money.
In the Midst of all which, may your Bankers forsake-ye;
And run with their Treasure to Holland and break-ye.
Farewel to your Beef, Pudden, Capon, and Mutton,
And all your fine Dainties, so fit for a Glutton,
You've nothing so Good for a Dutchman to Eat,
As Burgooe, Red-herring, Dry'd Whiting and Scate;
It's Food for a Bugher, or Chief of the State.
Farewel to your Women, made Fine by their Cloaths,
He that tickles their Tobies, endangers his Nose;
They'l ne'er be so Honest and Sound as our Frowes.
Farewel to our Landladies, Heaven reclaim 'em!
Who suffer'd Dutch Boors to so heartily Brim 'em.
And also adieu to their Cuckoldly Spouses,
Whose Wives we Subdu'd, and Commanded their Houses
Farewel to the Fruits of their kind Conversation,
The Brood of Young Flemins we've left in the Nation,
Who in time may Torment-ye (or else a Plague Rot 'em).
And Revenge the affront done to us that Begot-'em;
'Mongst us 'tis the Nature of Sister or Brother,
To punish all Wrongs, done to the Father or Mother;
For that Moral Duty in us is Inherent,
We'll never see Injury done to our Parent.
And all your fine Dainties, so fit for a Glutton,
You've nothing so Good for a Dutchman to Eat,
As Burgooe, Red-herring, Dry'd Whiting and Scate;
It's Food for a Bugher, or Chief of the State.
Farewel to your Women, made Fine by their Cloaths,
He that tickles their Tobies, endangers his Nose;
They'l ne'er be so Honest and Sound as our Frowes.
Farewel to our Landladies, Heaven reclaim 'em!
Who suffer'd Dutch Boors to so heartily Brim 'em.
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Whose Wives we Subdu'd, and Commanded their Houses
Farewel to the Fruits of their kind Conversation,
The Brood of Young Flemins we've left in the Nation,
Who in time may Torment-ye (or else a Plague Rot 'em).
And Revenge the affront done to us that Begot-'em;
'Mongst us 'tis the Nature of Sister or Brother,
To punish all Wrongs, done to the Father or Mother;
For that Moral Duty in us is Inherent,
We'll never see Injury done to our Parent.
Farewel to the Grandeur and State that we liv'd-in;
And to your deep Bags we have pretty well div'd-in.
Farewel Brother Soldiers, you Drunken poor Fellows,
Who while we were Paid, run the hazard of Gallows,
Like True Men of Honour, in trying your Fortune,
For Money to Compass a Punk and a Quartan.
Farewel to the Pleasures of Kensington Town;
And the Sutlers true Nants, that went merrily down.
Farewel to King William, and Long may he Reign,
Whose Service we're forc'd from; and now to be plain,
Vel G---d we shall ne're live so Happy again.
And to your deep Bags we have pretty well div'd-in.
Farewel Brother Soldiers, you Drunken poor Fellows,
Who while we were Paid, run the hazard of Gallows,
Like True Men of Honour, in trying your Fortune,
For Money to Compass a Punk and a Quartan.
Farewel to the Pleasures of Kensington Town;
And the Sutlers true Nants, that went merrily down.
Farewel to King William, and Long may he Reign,
Whose Service we're forc'd from; and now to be plain,
Vel G---d we shall ne're live so Happy again.
| The Revels of the Gods | |