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222 THE EPILOGUE. |
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This devil, you know, out of spleen to the church, Will oftentimes leave his best friends in the lurch, And turn them adrift in the midst of their joy: 'Tis a difficult matter to cheat the Old Boy.
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'll laugh, we'll carouse and we'll sing, And cheerfully drink life and health to the king.
Let Washington now from his mountains descend, Who knows but in Greorge he may still find a friend ; A Briton, altho' he loves bottle and wench. Is an honester fellow than parle vous French.
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,
And Britons and we will for ever be friends.
Boys fill me a bumper ! now join in the chorus ! There is happiness still in the prospect before us, In this sparkling glass, all hostility ends, And Britons and we will for ever be friends. |
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