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THE RECESS. 279
Bless'd be the times when men may do, What no one comprehendeth ;
May boast of deeds that all must rue, Nor judge where nonsense endeth !
One year, with half ten thousand men, We swallow all our foes up ;
The next, the times are turnM, and then Old England's scale light goes up.
But still with courage and with glee, New laws we must be framing;
With paper and with parchment, we The savages are taming.
We swear the transatlantic folks
Shall all obey our orders; While they turn all we do to jokes,
And cry out, "guard your borders."
Well, then, we'll go to war with France— Yes—no—we must—we mustn't;
John Bull shall teach Monsieur to dance— But can't—and there's the curse on't.