Classic Poem

So! Bonaparte's coming, as folks seem to say,
(But I hope to have time to get in my hay).
And while he's caballing, and making a parley,
Perhaps I shall house all my wheat and my barley.
Fal la de ral, &c.

Then I shall have time to attend to my duty,
And keep the starved dogs from making a booty
Of what I've been toiling for, both late and early,
To support my old woman, whom I love so dearly.
Fal la de ral, &c.

Then, there are my children, and some of them feeble,
I wish, from my soul, that they were more able
To assist their old father, in drubbing the knaves,
For we ne'er will submit to become their tame slaves.
Fal la de ral, &c.

But then, there's son Dick, who is both strong and lusty,
And towards the French he is damnable crusty;
If you give him a pitchfork or any such thing,
He will fight till he's dead, in defence of his King.
Fal la de ral, &c.

And I'll answer for Ned, too, he'll never give out;
He should eat no more bacon, if I had a doubt.
And wish every one, who's not staunch in the cause,
May ne'er get a bit more to put in their jaws.
Fal la de ral, &c.

So you see, Bonaparte, how you are mistaken,
In your big little notions of stealing our bacon.
And your straight way to London , I this will you tell,
Your straight way to London is your short way to Hell
Fal la de ral, &c.