Classic Poem

A new BALLAD.

To the Tune of — — Sally in our Alley.

O F all the jobbs that e'er have past
Our house, since times of jobbing;
Sure none was ever like the last,
Ev'n in the days of Robin:
For he himself had blush'd for shame
At this polluted cluster,
Of fifteen n — bles of great fame,
All brib'd by one false muster.

Two D — kes on horseback first appear,
Both tall and of great prowess;
Two little B — r — ns in the rear
(For they're, you know, the lowest:)
But high and low they all agree
To do whatever man dar'd;
Those ne'er so tall, and those that fall
A foot below the standard.

Three regiments one d — ke contents,
With two more places, you know;
Since his B — th kn — ghts, his grace delights
In Tri-a junct' in U-ne.
Now B — lt — n comes with beat of drams,
Tho' fighting be his loathing;
He much dislikes both guns and pikes,
But relishes the cloathing.

Next doth advance, desying France,
A peer in wend' lous bustle;
With sword in hand he stout doth stand,
And brags his name is R-ss-l:
He'll beat the French from ev'ry trench,
And blow them off the water;
By sea and land he doth command,
And looks an errant otter.

But of this clan, there's not a man
For bravery that can be,
(Tho' An — — r should make a stir,)
Compar'd with M — — s Gr — — by:
His sword and dress both well express
His courage most exceeding;
And by his hair, you'd almost swear
He's valiant Charles of Sweden.

The next are H — — t, Ha — — x,
And F — — h, choice commanders!
For these the nation we must tax,
But ne'er send them to Flanders.
Two corps of men do still remain,
Earl Ch — — ly's and earl B — — ley's;
The last, I hold, not quite so bold
As formerly was Herc'les.

And now, dear G — r, thou man of pow'r,
And comprehensive noddle;
Tho' you've the gout, yet as you're stout,
Why wa'n't you plac'd in saddle?
Then yon might ride to either side,
Chuse which k — — you'ld serve under;
But, dear dragoon, change not too soon,
For fear of th' other blunder.

This faithful band shall ever stand,
Defend our faith's defender;
Shall keep us free from popery,
The French, and the pretender.
Now God bless all our m-n-try,
May they the crown environ,
To hold in chain whate'er p — — e reign,
And rule with links of iron.