 | Poems on Affairs of State |  |
An Address.
Madam,
We address you to-day in a very new Fashion,And tell you of nothing but Force and Invasion,
Tho some Folks will laugh when they hear the Occasion.
Violation's the Word: not a Tittle o'th' Church;
For, as Johnny says plainly, you've left us i'th' lurch:
The Sham's at an end which made such a pother,
And we're plaguily put to our Trumps for another.
But since the curs'd Lords have thrown out the Bill,
And chose a Committee that piss in a Quill;
410
Then N---m's Merit will soon be forgot,
And some of us surely must then go to pot:
We are forc'd to invent in this dang'rous Crisis,
Some pretty new Whims to confound their Devices.
Why, Madam, you're ravish'd, your Queenship's invaded,
And we must squeel out till of this you're persuaded.
But who are the Villains, perhaps you will ask;
If we did not tell you, 'twould be a hard Task
To guess, or perceive you had any Abuse,
So we come on purpose to tell you the News:
'Tis the whole H--- of Lords, those damnable Lords,
Who have done the sad thing on most of our Words.
O, Madam, take care of your Prerogative Royal,
We ne'er were before so confoundedly Loyal,
For extending your Power to be humbly addressing,
And you see we conform on Occasion so pressing;
To glut our Revenge, Moderation to foil,
The Peers to affront, the State to imbroil.
This glorious Quarrel we come to advance,
Which is as dear to us as that against France.
| Poems on Affairs of State | |