THE sages of old,
In prophecy told,
The cause of a nation’s undoing;
But our new English breed
No prophecies need,
For each one here seeks his own ruin.
With grumbling and jars,
We promote civil wars,
And preach up false tenets to many;
We snarl and we bite,
We rail and we fight
For religion, yet no man has any.
Then him let’s commend,
That’s true to his friend,
And the church and the senate would settle;
Who delights not in blood,
But draws when he shou’d,
And bravely stands brunt to the battle.
Who rails not at kings,
Nor politick things,
Nor treason will speak when he’s mellow;
But takes a full glass,
To his country’s success,
This, this is an honest brave fellow.