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The Epilogue


The Epilogue

Our farce is now finish'd,  your sport's at an end
But ere you depart, let the voice of a friend
By way of a chorus, the evening crown
With a song to the tune of a hey derry down.
     Derry down, down, hey derry down,

On this puny stage we've strutted our hour,
And have acted our parts to the best of our power
That a farce hath concluded not perfectly well
Was surely the fault of the devil in hell,
     Derry down, down, hey derry down,

Since this is the case, we must e'en make the best
Of a game that is lost;  let us turn it to jest
We'll smile, nay, we'1l laugh, we'll carouse and we'll sing
And cheerfully drink life and health to the King.
     Derry down, down, hey derry down,
Let Washington now from his mountains descend
Who knows but in George he may still find a friend,
A Briton, altho' he loves bottle and wench,
Is an honester fellow than parle vous French.
   Derry down, down, hey derry down.

Our great Independence we give to the wind,
And pray that Great Britain may once more be kind;
In this jovial song all hostility ends,
Britons and we will forever be friends.
     Derry down, down, hey derry down,

Good night! My good people, retire to your houses
Fair ladies, I beg you,  convince your dear spouses,
That Britons and we are united in bliss
And ratify all with a conjugal kiss.
     Derry down, down, hey derry down,

Once more, here's a health to the King and Queen
Confusion to him, who in rancor and spleen,
Refuses to drink with an English friend,
Immutable amity to the world's end,
     Derry down, down, hey derry down,

From Songbook of the American Revolution, Rabson
Note: Written in 1778 as the epilogue to a Tory farce,
     celebrating the British occupation of Philadelphia.