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A Tankard of Ale |
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THE HOP PLANTER'S SONG1
OR
DOWN WITH THE FRENCH
Come, my jolly brisk boys, lay your hop-poles aside,
Each lad take his can and his wench ; Old England now sails with the wind and the tide
To rouse us and down with the French.
What's he that presides at the Court of Versailles, To the planter that sits on this Bench.
Huzza ! for your Hops, your stout Beer, and good Ales Down with French wine and down with the French.
Inspired by such martial strong liquors as these, Our thirst for revenge we will quench.
Our Sovreign, our Sailors, our Ships and our Seas Are united to down with the French.
Tho' void of all weapons, of guns and of swords, While his fist a brave Briton can clench,
He will sway by the weapons which nature affords, 'Gainst the cuts and the arms of the French.
Our Ports, like our hearts, shall be open and free,
We scorn for to fly or entrench : Take your liquor, my Bucks, take your liquor with glee,
Down with that and then down with the French.
1 From an untitled collection of eighteenth-century drinking songs in the British Museum.
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