Wellington in France and Bonaparte
out of Germany ! !
Tune—" Mrs. Casey."
WHAT famous times are coming on,
For Bonaparte's deſcending ;
The tyrant's power is almoſt gone,
His influence is ending ;
Mhe German powers are all combin'd.
To curb his vain pretences,
They ll thraſh him ſoundly till they find,
They've brought him to his ſenſes,
So fill your glaſſes to the brim'
And laugh at Nap's preſumption,
Theſe victories have given him,
A galloping conſumption.
Such vanlting notions he poſſeſſ'd
His pride ſurpaſs'd all bound ſir,
His neighbours muſt not be at reſt,
He pillag'd them all round ſir.
Bold Ruſſia ſaid this ne'er will do,
To him well ne'er he clingers,
Bonev replied I'll conquer you,
But Moſcow burnt his fingers.
So fill your glaſſes &c.
Yet ſtill his cure was not complete
New conſcripts were aſſembled,
The Allies gave him freſh defeat,
With rage and fear he trembled :
'Twas near Leipſics ancient walls,
They harraſs'd him about, fir,
And though he ſaid he wanted balls,
He'd qui e enough of routs, ſir.
So fill your glaſſes, &c.
Through Germany he led the way,
And danc'd againſt his will fir,
Such thundering muſic there did play,
'Twould ne'er let him be ſtill fir,
The Rhyne he croſſ'd in diſmal plight,
His troops diſperſ'd and ſlain ſir,
And when with them he dares to fight,
They'll beat him o'er again fir.
So fill your glaſſes, &c.
Brave Wellington's got into France,
By victory ſurrounded,
He made the vaulting Soult to prance,
And all his ſchemes contounded,
y's end is drawing near,
's gone to wreck sir,
'd him in both front & rear
his neck sir,
ſe victorious boys,
ſtill befriend them,
wn their glorious toils
is attend them.
[NLS note: a graphic appears here - see image of page]
BONEY IN ENGLAND.
Should Boney come here ſome Engliſhmen ſwear
They would flog the dog well with his buttocks all
While others avow they would hang him as high,
As Hamon was hung between earth and the ſky.
Some ſay they would treat him no better than ſlies,
Between firger and thumb they would give him a
And others would pin him cloſe up in the tower,
Bread and water alone for his food to devour
Pray who is this Boney come tell unto me,
And of what generation or what family,
Some call him a baſtard found by the ſea ſhore,
His father a cuckold his mother a wh re.
Pray where was he born I would wiſh for to know,
Or what is the reaſon he troubles ſo,
He was ſtole out of hell while the devil was aſleep,
And ſent into France diſturbances to keep
Says the barber I'd ſhave him, the tailor my ſheers
Are open to give him a clip in the ears,
Says the cook I will baſte him and humble his pride,
Says the tanner g—d d—m him I'll curry his hide,
Cries the ſaddle I long on his ſhoulder to ride,
I'll warrant a good pair of ſpurs I'll provide,
Says the welchman I will toaſt him as I would my
Says Paddy I'll whack him as long as you pleaſe.
The ſoldier will trounce him the ſailor he cries,
He'll never come here the raſcal's too wiſe,
He knows the tars of England never will ſhrink,
For him and his flat bottomed veſſels would ſink.
It would weary your patience to hear the folks
How him and his crew of proud Frenchmen would
Succeſs to old England and let your voice ring,
We'll fight till we die for our country and king.
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