Classic Poem

To the Tune of " Packington's Pound "

1.

An invasion from Dutchland is all the discourse,
An incredible tale of incredible force!
While each graver Sir Pol unfolded his sheet,
An exact computation of army and fleet,
Of their horse and their foot
And their great guns, to boot,
Each fire-ship, each tender, and flat-bottomed boat;
The time of their landing and place can reveal,
But that, as a secret, as yet he'll conceal.

2.

While each busy-brained coxcomb, mechanic, and fool,
Each chattering barber, each apron and rule,
Let his private concern be of ne'er so much weight,
And nought but his trade, he can call his estate;
Yet straight he declares
It has long been his fears,
He dreaded this business for several years;
Nay, the future events he could eas'ly relate,
But 'tis dangerous, neighbors, and touches the state.

3.

Now while we are hearing and telling of lies,
A cloud from the west does quite darken the skies;
All Egypt's ten plagues do at once on us fall,
For in naming the Irish, it comprehends all.
To what purpose they come
Is no secret to Rome,
And to guess at the consequence we may presume:
Old England was ne'er so unhappy before,
While the scum of three nations for aid we implore.

4.

Now lay by chimeras of fleets and armados,
And, if you can, fairly march off to Barbados,
Jamaica, Virginia, or any plantation,
Except that of Will Penn, the disturber o'th'nation;
To Lapland or Greenland,
Nay, sail into Finland,
To Presbyter John or the islands within land;
And leave both your honors' estates and your wives,
On condition that you may depart with your lives.c