 | Songs, comic and satyrical |  |
FREEDOM.
Come Neighbours, Neighbours, drink about,
Have done with Party's pother,
List not, ye Lads, to Uproar's rout,
On one side nor on t'other.
The Winners laugh, the Losers rail,
Thus Faction ever dins, Sir;
Insanity tells Folly's tale,
The Outs will at the Ins, Sir.
Have done with Party's pother,
List not, ye Lads, to Uproar's rout,
On one side nor on t'other.
The Winners laugh, the Losers rail,
Thus Faction ever dins, Sir;
Insanity tells Folly's tale,
The Outs will at the Ins, Sir.
Oh, Common Sense! once more descend
To save this Isle from sinking;
Be once again Britannia's friend,
And set her Sons to thinking!
No more by Knaves let us be school'd,
But teach us how to read 'em,
Nor let well-meaning Men be fool'd
By Privilege and Freedom.
To save this Isle from sinking;
Be once again Britannia's friend,
And set her Sons to thinking!
No more by Knaves let us be school'd,
But teach us how to read 'em,
Nor let well-meaning Men be fool'd
By Privilege and Freedom.
Where's Freedom?—point out how and when
We have enjoy'd that Bounty?
When Magna Charta—aye, Amen,—
But tell me where's her County?
Why where our property's secur'd,
Where Liberty possessing;
Then, Brother Britons, be assur'd
The Game Act is a Blessing.
We have enjoy'd that Bounty?
When Magna Charta—aye, Amen,—
But tell me where's her County?
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Where Liberty possessing;
Then, Brother Britons, be assur'd
The Game Act is a Blessing.
Lov'd Liberty! celestial Maid!
Which way shall we address thee?
You're England's Genius, it is said,
And Englishmen possess thee?
We boast too much about this fair,
For, nightly, tho' we toast her,
I wou'd not have you, friends, despair—
But, faith, I fear we've lost her.
Which way shall we address thee?
You're England's Genius, it is said,
And Englishmen possess thee?
We boast too much about this fair,
For, nightly, tho' we toast her,
I wou'd not have you, friends, despair—
But, faith, I fear we've lost her.
Like Hamlet's ghost, 'Twas here! 'tis gone!
And only to be guess'd at;
As maidenheads, when lost and won,
Are what the winners jest at.
In vain the Goddess opes her arms,
No more her arms we're wooing;
Licentiousness has Harlot's charms,
Which tempt to our undoing.
And only to be guess'd at;
As maidenheads, when lost and won,
Are what the winners jest at.
In vain the Goddess opes her arms,
No more her arms we're wooing;
Licentiousness has Harlot's charms,
Which tempt to our undoing.
Wit, Beauty, Sciences, and Arts,
Are all become dependant;
We're neither free in heads nor hearts,
We're slaves, and there's an end on't.
It was, and ever will be so,
Each fetter'd to some Folly;
And, all the Liberty we know,
Is—drink! and let's be jolly.
Are all become dependant;
We're neither free in heads nor hearts,
We're slaves, and there's an end on't.
It was, and ever will be so,
Each fetter'd to some Folly;
And, all the Liberty we know,
Is—drink! and let's be jolly.
| Songs, comic and satyrical | |