 | Poems on several occasions |  |
132
A BALLAD ON THE TIMES.
A Merry Land! by this Light
We laugh at our own undoing;
And labour with all our might
For Slavery and Ruin.
New Factions we daily raise,
New Maxims we're ever instilling,
And him that to day we praise,
To morrow's a Rogue and Villain.
We laugh at our own undoing;
And labour with all our might
For Slavery and Ruin.
New Factions we daily raise,
New Maxims we're ever instilling,
And him that to day we praise,
To morrow's a Rogue and Villain.
133
The cunning Politician,
Whose aim is to gull the People,
Begins his Cant of Sedition,
With Folks have a care of your Steeple!
The Populace this alarms,
They bluster, they bounce, and they vapour;
The Nation's up in Arms,
And the Devil begins to caper.
Whose aim is to gull the People,
Begins his Cant of Sedition,
With Folks have a care of your Steeple!
The Populace this alarms,
They bluster, they bounce, and they vapour;
The Nation's up in Arms,
And the Devil begins to caper.
The Statesmen they rail at each other,
And tickle the Mob with their Story;
They make a most horrible Pother,
Of national Int'rest and Glory.
Their Hearts are as bitter as Gall,
Tho' their Tongues they are sweeter than Honey,
They don't care a Fig for us all,
But only to finger our Money.
And tickle the Mob with their Story;
They make a most horrible Pother,
Of national Int'rest and Glory.
Their Hearts are as bitter as Gall,
Tho' their Tongues they are sweeter than Honey,
They don't care a Fig for us all,
But only to finger our Money.
134
If my Friend be an honest Lad,
I never ask his Religion;
Distinctions make us all mad,
And ought to be had in derision.
They christen us Tories and Whigs,
When the best of 'em both is an Evil;
But we'll be no Party Prigs,
Let such Godfathers go to the Devil.
I never ask his Religion;
Distinctions make us all mad,
And ought to be had in derision.
They christen us Tories and Whigs,
When the best of 'em both is an Evil;
But we'll be no Party Prigs,
Let such Godfathers go to the Devil.
Too long have they had their Ends,
In setting us one against t'other,
And sowing such Strife among Friends,
That Brother hated Brother.
But we'll for the future be wise,
Grow sociable, honest, and hearty;
We'll all their Arts despise,
And laugh at the Name of a Party.
In setting us one against t'other,
And sowing such Strife among Friends,
That Brother hated Brother.
But we'll for the future be wise,
Grow sociable, honest, and hearty;
We'll all their Arts despise,
And laugh at the Name of a Party.
| Poems on several occasions | |