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Word to the wise

(35) Word to the wise

                A WORD to the WISE,

          A New Ballad on the Times.

THE Mounſeers they ſay have the World in a String,
They don't like our Nobles, the don't like our King,
But they ſmuggle our Wool and they'd ſain have our Wheat,
And leave us poor Engliſhmen nothing to eat.
                  Derry down, down, down, derry down.

They call us already a Province of France,
And come here by Hundreds to teach us to dance,
They ſay we are heavy they ſay we are dull,
And that Beeſ and Plumb Pudding's not good for John Bull.
                                                             Derry down.

They Jaw in their Clubs, murder Women and Prieſts,
And then for their Fiſhwifes, they make Civic feaſts,
Civic feaſts ! what are they ? why a newfaſhioned thing,
For which they renounce both their God and their King.
                                                             Derry down.

And yet there's no eating, 'tis all fooliſh play,
For when Pies are cut open, the Birds fly away,
But Frenchmen admire it and fancy they ſee,
That Liberty's fix'd at the top of a Tree.
                                                             Derry down.

They ſay Man and Wife ſhould no longer be one,
Do you take a Daughter and I'll take a Son,
And as all things are equal, and all ſhould be free,
If your Wife don't ſuit you Sir, perhaps ſhe'll ſuit me.
                                                             Derry down.

But our Ladies are Virtuous, our Ladies are Fair,
Which is more then they tell us your Frenchwomen are,
They know they are happy they know they are free,
And that Liberty's not at the top of a Tree.
                                                             Derry down.

They take from the Rich but don't give to the Poor,
And to all ſorts of Miſchief they'd open the Door,
Then let's be United and know when we're well,
Nor believe all the Lies theſe Republicans tell,
                                                             Derry down.

Our Soldiers and Sailors will anſwer theſe Sparks,
Though they threaten Dumourier ſhall ſpit us like larks,
But Britons don't fear them for Britons are free,
And know Liberty's not to be found on a Tree.
Derry down.

They try to deceive us, our loſs is their Gain,
Which is all we can learn from the works of Tom Paine,
But let Britons be wiſe as they're brave and they're free,
And ſtill Britain ſhall rule in the midſt of her Sea.
                                                             Derry down.

Then Stand by the Church and the King and the Laws,
The Old Lion ſtill has his Teeth and his Claws,
We know of no Deſpots, we've nothing to fear,
For their new fangled Nonſenſe will never do here.
                                                             Derry down.

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