 | Poems on Affairs of State |  |
A Health to the Northamptonshire SNEAKERS, 1705.
We'll remember the Men
That go with us again,
To chuse Knights that can afford, Sir,
To serve without Pension,
Or other Pretension;
And Just and Right is the Word, Sir.
That go with us again,
To chuse Knights that can afford, Sir,
To serve without Pension,
Or other Pretension;
And Just and Right is the Word, Sir.
5
As for those that have Pay,
We have nothing to say,
Let the Soldier live by his Sword, Sir:
We're for Them that are known
To have Lands of their own;
And Just and Right is the Word, Sir.
We have nothing to say,
Let the Soldier live by his Sword, Sir:
We're for Them that are known
To have Lands of their own;
And Just and Right is the Word, Sir.
If we chuse their Court-Tools,
They may well call us Fools,
Tho a Double Saint, and a Lord, Sir:
We are sure we can trust
Both our Right and our Just;
And Just and Right is the Word, Sir.
They may well call us Fools,
Tho a Double Saint, and a Lord, Sir:
We are sure we can trust
Both our Right and our Just;
And Just and Right is the Word, Sir.
The REPLY.
Here's a Health to the Knight
Who dares Vote and dares Fight,
To maintain our Religion and Laws, Sir,
Against France and the Tack,
And every mad Jack;
And never will Sneak from the Cause, Sir.
Who dares Vote and dares Fight,
To maintain our Religion and Laws, Sir,
Against France and the Tack,
And every mad Jack;
And never will Sneak from the Cause, Sir.
As for those whom you seem
For their Lands to esteem,
You little can say of their Brains, Sir:
But since nothing can taint
Our Brave Soldier and Saint;
'Tis for these Men alone we can answer.
For their Lands to esteem,
You little can say of their Brains, Sir:
But since nothing can taint
Our Brave Soldier and Saint;
'Tis for these Men alone we can answer.
Your dull Puns we slight
Of your Just and your Right,
The Burden of Scoundrel Song, Sir:
Cheat us not with a Name,
For Your Just Ends in Sham;
And your Cart did always go Wrong, Sir.
Of your Just and your Right,
The Burden of Scoundrel Song, Sir:
Cheat us not with a Name,
For Your Just Ends in Sham;
And your Cart did always go Wrong, Sir.
| Poems on Affairs of State | |