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50

Rodger de Coverly.

The French feel a wish to invade again,
Racking each poor simple noddy;
This impulse each briton obey'd again,
Stand firm, and be conquer'd by nobody:
The bantams exultingly crow,
With blows and thumps soon to crack our crown;
Serve their armies like bricks in a row,
Kick the first, and the rest will soon tumble down.

(Speaking).
Irish, Scotch, and Welch, all join in the glorious contest, whilst every Briton sings

Monsieur, come if you dare,
Like Punch with the devil, fight cleverly;
We'll shew you what Englishmen are,
And make you dance Rodger de Coverly.
Ka ba, wa wa, wa wa waw, eh, &c.
(Imitating punch for chorus).
I tell you, my hearts, says Jack Tar,
They talk of invasion at random tho';
We'll fight 'em at home or afar,
Let em jaw, thof I don't understand 'em tho':
We sailors for fighting rank chief,
They neither can drive 'em nor lead 'em too;
For d---e, we feed upon beef,
And fight for our sovereign and freedom too.

(Speaking).
Who says we won't fight? And, I say, who says we can't fight? Mayhap they think to find us off the watch! The British lion asleep in time of danger—Avast! avast!—Let us only catch them within reach of our little pop guns—Then

Monsieur, come, &c.
See Paddy from Cork, fight the best of 'em,
Shelaly's the word—whilst they sigh again;
Bad luck to the whole—and as for the rest of 'em,
To fight 'em wou'd prove all my eye again:
Shou'd we conquer, success to our capers,
But shou'd you be kill, with what pride again
51

You'll see your own name in the papers,
And read how like soldiers you died again.

(Speaking).
For my own part I understand French perfectly well, provided it's spoken in Irish; and when I was abroad, I chalenged a french corporal to play at back sword with me, and I gave him a lick, and knock'd off his head; and by the hokey, he never missd it 'till he went to put on his nightcap: and that's the way I intend to sarve every mother's son of 'em. Then,

Monsieur, Come, &c.
Out a wa', mon! the Scotchman so brave!
North Britons their courage will shew again;
Neptune ga' you command o'th' wave,
To lug back your insolent foe again:
With Andrew Feraras, so bright,
We cut and we slash aw before 'em too;
Ken ye well how a Scotchman can fight,
And then dance the reel Tullock Gorum too.

(Speaking).
Out a wa', mon! Ken ye we'll wha' did the wark at Egypt? Wha' but the brave General Abercrombie—wha's name will be handed down to a' posterity—and shou'd the French attempt to land here, we'll drive 'em, like a countrymon o' my ain, wha went to steal apples fra' another mon's orchard, and the mon speering him creeping through the edge, cried, whither are you ganging?—“Back again.” says Sawney.—And that's the way we'll serve them a'.—Then,

Monsieur, come, &c.
Attend, soldiers, sailors, and others to,
I appeal to your courage and sense again;
United, shake hands each like brothers too,
One and all join in England's defence again:
Our fathers' supported the cause,
Shall we lose it? never, no never, boys:
Stand firm to religion and laws,
King George and our country, for ever, boys.

(Speaking).
If the French seek our beef and pudding, we must try to cut their fingers in the attempt; for however we may differ a little about politics, we all unite in the common cause, and even our children sing,

Monsieur, &c.
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