Classic Poem

Tune, English Roast Beef .
Y E bold British boys, who to virtue incline,
And would have our old England in annals to shine,
Remember the glorious and great FIFTY-NINE .
Here's to old England for ever,
For the good of old England's the thing.

All our noble exploits, and our brave gallant men,
To relate, stands in need of a much better pen;
And was Pope the great poet but living again,
O how he'd sing of old England,
For the good of old England's the thing.

Such merit at first to his muse wou'd seem strange,
To a bard who thro' so many vices would range;
But now to just praises his satyr would change.
He'd sing of the heroes of England,
For the good of old England's the thing.

This year of successes would give him delight,
Of Hawke , and of Pocock , with spirit he'd write;
But O how he'd maul the poltroons that won't fight;
Fight for the good of old England,
For the good of old England's the thing.

Says the marquiss of Granby quite British and bluff ,
To a FRIBBLE cockaded , be hardy and tough,
With glory he warm'd, for we'll give you no muff ;
Who can be cold when old England,
The good of old England's the thing.

Senegal and Goree and their gold must inspire,
And our fame at Belleisle fann'd our officers fire,
No glories of Greece or of Rome could go higher,
Then here's to old England for ever,
For the good of old England's the thing.

From Homer we learn that at famous old Troy,
Young Achilles its forts and its walls did destroy;
But to Wolfe he was only a spin-threading boy.
O the brave Wolf of old England,
For the good of old England's the thing.

At Quebec whilst we think how our W OLFE did behave,
Let a brave British tear nobly fall at his grave,
And the sculptor 's best art his dear memory save.
O the brave Wolfe of old England,
For the good of old England's the thing.

When he saw them give way, then his soul bravely fled,
Nor of death more than foes was the hero afraid;
But for merit alive let us now leave the dead ,
Here's to great T OWNSHEND and England,
For the good of old England's the thing.

Let's remember how bravely he took the command
And treated as Britons should treat, sword in hand ;
They saw against Britons no numbers could stand.
Here is old England for ever,
For the good of old England's the thing.

Brave Monckton we'll toast in a full flowing bowl,
Whose enemy's shot met with heaven 's controul,
Only past thro' his body , but miss'd his great soul;
It was for the good of old England,
And the good of old England's the thing.

Nor to Saunders intrepid a less glass let us have,
Who triumph'd at orders his country to save,
Nor to aid the great Hawke valued billows or wave.
Here's to the Tars of old England,
For the good of old England's the thing.

Here's to Granby , whose name in all ages will shine,
To Elliot , and all who great Ferdinand join,
May they drive the French scamperers over the Rhine,
Make them sue for a peace with old England;
But a good peace or none is the thing.

Our brave warlike trumpets shall sound their defeat ,
Till our country new fame and new glory shall get,
And an humble carte blanche stop their Brussels Gazette ;
This is the peace for old England,
A peace which no censure can bring:

Such a peace to true Britons would give a delight,
Make the great Mr. Pitt with our counsels unite,
But till that is proclaim'd let's continue to fight,
Fight for the honour of England,
For the honour of England's the thing.

With a health to Great George , I finish my song,
May his glory increase, and his reign still be long:
Such a reign may the author of Beings prolong;
'Tis for the good of old England,
And the good of old England's the thing.