 | A Tory medley |  |
The QUAKER.
NOW ponder well ye Tories dear,
The words which I shall sing,
A mournful story you shall hear,
Ne'er was so strange a thing
The words which I shall sing,
A mournful story you shall hear,
Ne'er was so strange a thing
A letter to New York I wrote,
Which I in secret sent,
It was a harmless little note
Oh! Good was my intent.
Which I in secret sent,
It was a harmless little note
Oh! Good was my intent.
And now behold it came to pass
That this my writing fair,
Fell in the hands of wicked [illeg.]
Who did my soul ensnare.
That this my writing fair,
Fell in the hands of wicked [illeg.]
Who did my soul ensnare.
Moreover I was hurried straight
Before the powers that be,
Uncertain what would be my fate,
What doom awaited me.
Before the powers that be,
Uncertain what would be my fate,
What doom awaited me.
Three sons of Belial sat on high,
On my destruction bent,
And for this crime adjudg'd that I,
To prison should be sent.
On my destruction bent,
And for this crime adjudg'd that I,
To prison should be sent.
Now such disgrace had ne'er been brought
Our Tory tribes upon,
Had but friend [illeg.] with vigour wrought,
For our sal—va—ti—on.
Our Tory tribes upon,
Had but friend [illeg.] with vigour wrought,
For our sal—va—ti—on.
When first he touch'd our friendly shores,
And pow'r was in his hand,
He, Rebels should have hang'd by scores,
And purg'd this guilty land.
And pow'r was in his hand,
He, Rebels should have hang'd by scores,
And purg'd this guilty land.
But for our sins, the wicked crew
Of Rebels will prevail.
Therefore, we've nothing now to do,
But for to weep and wail.
Of Rebels will prevail.
Therefore, we've nothing now to do,
But for to weep and wail.
| A Tory medley | |