Classic Poem

Chear up your hearts, bold Britons , our troops are now advancing,
The rebels must retreat, or quickly die a-dancing;
Brave Marshal Wade is at the head, to give us his command, Sir,
The Chevalier you need not fear, we'll put him to a stand, Sir.

The Clans they have begun it, to pillage and to plunder,
I hope to see them run yet, when e'er our Cannons thunder;
Then horse and foot, let's quickly to't, the country now doth call, Sir,
To mend some brogues for Highland rogues, with powder and with ball, Sir.

The time has been their own, for [our] want of good Commanders,
And that will soon be known, by those that come from Flanders :
Our British foot are hard put to't; to march through mud and mire!
But all agreed they'll not be rid, by Capucheens and Friars.

Although the nights are cold, not very fit for camping,
The troops will march up bold, being always us'd to tramping;
The Blues and Buffs are old and tough, the Greens they ne'er will start, Sir,
The Yellow boys don't fear no noise, [with] their Colours ne'er will part, Sir.

Therefore let us prepare, and be ready for a Battle,
We'll see their [backs] bare, when once our Cannons rattle;
The Yorkshire Blue are bold and true, brave gentlemen, no doubt, Sir,
When e'er 'tis o'er, you'll hear more, what they have been about, Sir.