When People find their Money spent,
They recollect which Way it went,
The like in order to prevent
for future.
That Money's spent, I need not tell,
The French King's Tyranny to quell;
I'm sure we must remember well,
'tis true, Sir.
But least that we shou'd think it vain,
Our English Feats I will proclaim,
And what we did the last Campaign
in Flanders .

With Money flush'd, and Arms good store,
We'd touch the French to 'th quick we swore,
With that in Hast we hurry'd o'er
Commanders.
But scarce they'd set their Foot on Shore,
But News was brought that Laxemburg
Had actually besieg'd Namure ,
nigh Liege , Sir.
This Action put 'em in Amaze,
And yet if they shou'd make Delays,
They thought they hardly e'er shou'd raise
the Siege, Sir.
With that they summon all their Force,
Full fourscore thousand Foot and Horse,
That never flinch, nor hang an Arse,
when fighting.
But yet all this did prove in vain,
They not an Inch of Ground cou'd gain,
There was such Storms of Thunder, Rain,
and Light'ning.
The Season bad did make 'em fret,
Not that they fear'd the French a bit,
But that it was so cursed wet,
raw Weather.
And raise the Siege they cou'd not do't,
It was so dirty under Foot;
The French were strong intrench'd to boot,
together.
On this they frequent Counsels call,
In which they voted, one and all,
That least the French shou'd chance to maul
the Army,
'Twas better let the Town be taken,
Provided they cou'd save their Bacon;
The Weather too in Time might happen
less stormy.
Thus being, as you hear, distress'd,
They think it now high Time to rest,
And full two Months they took at least
to do it.
When thus refresh'd, then up they rose,
And swore if none did them oppose,
They'd be reveng'd, and make their Foes
to rue it.
Away they march, with full Intent
To pay these French a Complement,
And drub them to their Hearts content,
but mark, Sir.
The French their Coming understood,
And therefore lin'd a little Wood,
Where they their Party did make good
'till dark, Sir.
These cunning Rogues had manag'd so,
That we receiv'd another Blow,
Which might have prov'd our overthrow,
pray mind it.
Here our poor English go to Pot,
Because, forsooth, it is their Lot
To undergo all Service hot,
we find it.
We had about seven thousand slain,
But that is nothing in the main,
Considering what we hope to gain
next Battle.
Then we'll recover all again,
With one of ours we'll kill them ten,
'Till we have wasted all their Men,
meer Rattle.
But now tho' this Attempt did fail,
We'd still a Trick that wou'd prevail,
And make Monsieur his Stars bewail,
with Sorrow.
We had a Project under-hand,
That soon wou'd make him understand,
He must no longer keep the Land
h' had borrow'd.
This noble Whim to execute,
A mighty Fleet was fitted out,
And Talmash is the Man must do't,
or no Man.
Away he goes, with might and main,
To try if he cou'd Footing gain,
But there the gallant Man is slain,
brave Roman .
Namur we saw to France submit,
At Steenkirk w'had enough of it,
And the Descent did prove beshit
all over.
Our Conquest thus at length you view,
And how the French we did subdue;
Our Triumphs next I will to you
discover.
The Tower-Guns were all prepar'd,
And Fire-works on Lighters rear'd;
But what came on them, I ne'er heard
a verbum .
In Houses all Folks set up Lights,
Only some sawcy Jacobites,
Who were all put to mortal Frights,
to curb 'em.
First came the Guards to clear the Way,
And next a 'Squire in Boots of Hay,
Upon a Nag most miserably
jaded.
Masons and Bricklayers, with their Rules,
Join with the other Rout of Fools,
Who were to be the Party's Tools
perswaded.
Next these, in Droves the Rabble come,
In one Hand Club, in t'other Stone,
Those Windows that had Candles none,
to batter.
Last came a Coack, in which there sate
Four Lords, who went, as People prate,
The General to congratulate
and flatter.
But after all, it must be said,
Our Conquest was not quite so bad,
But they these Triumphs merited,
and more, Sir.

For never yet, as I presume,
Was British Prince, or Emp'ror of Rome ,
With Farthing Candles lighted Home
before, Sir.