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An Election Ballad. Oxford 1768, said to | An Election Ballad. Oxford 1768, said to be | ||
written by | written by Thos Warton D.M. of Trin Coll. * | ||
Ye | Ye brave honest fellows, who boast of your freedom | ||
Let | Let Harcourt & Nares canvass on, never heed 'em; | ||
And as for that brazen fac'd candidate Cotter | |||
At best He's no more than an Irish bog-trotter | |||
Derry down &c | |||
To be sure Paddy handles his tongue well enough | |||
But his speeches are bulls made of true Irish stuff, | |||
Tho he promises freemen such generous cheer | |||
Yet he cudgles his wife & locks up his small beer | |||
Derry down. | |||
Hasn't Harcourt made heathens of poor Christian people | |||
He has built a strange church there, with't e're a steeple | |||
Which made his plump tenants from Newnham away go | |||
And sent them to New Town to rot with the Ague | |||
Derry down. | |||
To steal all our rights and our liberties Nares | |||
Will lay his law springes, like Poachers for hares; | |||
And our friends of the Windmill if sense they have any | |||
Think they've trusted already one lawyer too many. | |||
Derry down. | |||
For t'was Mushroom that put up our freedoms to sale | |||
And got our poor Brethren box'd up in a Jail; | |||
He wanted Port Meadow its owners to vary | |||
That his milkmaid might stock it & set up a Dairy | |||
Derry down. | |||
Latest revision as of 02:50, 18 July 2017
An Election Ballad. Oxford 1768, said to be written by Thos Warton D.M. of Trin Coll. *
Ye brave honest fellows, who boast of your freedom Let Harcourt & Nares canvass on, never heed 'em; And as for that brazen fac'd candidate Cotter At best He's no more than an Irish bog-trotter
Derry down &c
To be sure Paddy handles his tongue well enough But his speeches are bulls made of true Irish stuff, Tho he promises freemen such generous cheer Yet he cudgles his wife & locks up his small beer
Derry down.
Hasn't Harcourt made heathens of poor Christian people He has built a strange church there, with't e're a steeple Which made his plump tenants from Newnham away go And sent them to New Town to rot with the Ague
Derry down.
To steal all our rights and our liberties Nares Will lay his law springes, like Poachers for hares; And our friends of the Windmill if sense they have any Think they've trusted already one lawyer too many.
Derry down.
For t'was Mushroom that put up our freedoms to sale And got our poor Brethren box'd up in a Jail; He wanted Port Meadow its owners to vary That his milkmaid might stock it & set up a Dairy
Derry down.