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(Created page with "An Election Ballad. Oxford 1768, said to he written by the Wardon. [D.M.?] of [illegible] Ye have honest fellows, who boast of your freedom Let [Harcourt & Naves?]")
 
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An Election Ballad. Oxford 1768, said to he
An Election Ballad. Oxford 1768, said to be
written by the Wardon. [D.M.?] of [illegible]
written by Tho~s Warton [ ] of Trin Coll


Ye have honest fellows, who boast of your freedom
Ye brave honest fellows, who boast of your freedom
Let [Harcourt & Naves?]
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 etc
 
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 and 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 [oary]
That his milkmaid might stock it & set up a Dairy
  Derry down

Revision as of 22:44, 12 July 2017

An Election Ballad. Oxford 1768, said to be written by Tho~s Warton [ ] 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 etc

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 and 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 [oary] That his milkmaid might stock it & set up a Dairy

  Derry down