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Hibernia strikes his harp!
In latitude North 52% OR
The merchant's flush'd ;-
Hail, awful Brunswick, Saxe-Gotha, hail!
Not George, but Louis, now shall turn his tail!
Thus, I a-far from mad debate,
With my good hen,
To all the peacock pride, and vain regards of state!-
Yet if the laurel prize,
O FOR a Muse of Fire,
With wild affright would see the snow-bills roll,
Ncr beast, nor Christian-none but the White Bear!
ANTISTROPHE. (By Brother HARRY.)
Farewell awhile, ye summer breezes!
Thus peace and war on earth alternate reign:
STROPHE II. (By Brother CHARLES.)
And now gay Hope, her anchor dropping, And blue-ey'd Peace, and black-ey'd Pleasures, And Plenty in light cadence hopping, Fain would dance to WHITEHEAD's measures. But WHITEHEAD now in death reposes, Crown'd with laurel! crown'd with roses! Yet we, with laurel crown'd, his dirge will sing, And thus deserve fresh laurels from the KING,
By SIR JOSEPH MAWBEY, BART.
to yon heavenly skies,
Incense, quite smoking hot, arose,
AIR-accompanied by the LEARNED Pig.
Tell me, dear Muse, O! tell me, pray,
[Here Muse whispers I-Sir Joseph:] Indeed!-Repeat the fragrant sound! Push love and loyalty around,
Through Irish, Scotch, as well as British ground!
For this BIG MORN
GREAT GEORGE was born!
The tidings all the Poles shall ring!
Due homage will I pay,
On this, thy native day,
GEORGE, by the grace of God, my rightful KING!
AIR with Lutes.
Well might my dear lady say,
very, very morn; Hark! JOEY, hark!
I hear the lark,
Or else it is
the sweet Sowgelder's horn!
Forth from their sties the bristly victims lead ;
A score of HoGs, flat on their backs, shall bleed.
In lily fat
They cut six inches on the ribs, at least!"
DUET-with Marrow-bones and Cleavers.
Butcher and Cook, begin!
We'll have a royal greasy chin!
Tid-bits so nice and rare—;
I'll give 'em pork in plenty-cut, and come again!
Hog! Porker! Roaster! Boar-stag! Barbicue!