Britain's contest

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     BRITAIN'S CONTEST.

THE French ſay they are coming o'er,
to kill our King an' a' that,
They'll kiſs our ſweethearts and our wives,
and ſlay ourſelves an' a' that.
And a' that and a' that,
they'll tak our gear and a' that,
But gin they come we'll crack their crowns,
—ſend them hame to claw that.

For Buonaparte by ſubtile art,
he rules the French and a' that,
He rules the Dutch he rules the Swiſs,
and mony mae than a' that.
And a' that and a' that,
and Italy and a' that,
He ſays he'll rule Great Britain too,
but faith he manna fa' that.

For Nelſon bold is on the ſea,
Sir Sidney Smith and a' that,
There's Keith and Cornwallis too,
and mony mae than a' that.
And a' that and a' that,
our wooden walls and a' that,
Our Sailors bold and ſoldiers brave,
we'll beat them yet for a' that.

My Highland lads cheer up your hearts,
your bonnets blue and a' that,
Your tartan hoſe an' philabegs,
an' broad claymores an' a' that,