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| VAIN Britons, boast no longer with proud indignity, | |
| By land your conquering legions, your matchless strength at sea, | |
| Since we, your braver sons, incensed, our swords have girded on, | |
| Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza, for war and Washington! | |
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| Urged on by North and vengeance, those valiant champions came, | 5 |
| Loud bellowing Tea and Treason, and George was all on flame, | |
| Yet sacrilegious as it seems, we rebels still live on, | |
| And laugh at all their empty puffs,—huzza for Washington! | |
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| Still deaf to mild entreaties, still blind to England’s good, | |
| You have for thirty pieces betray’d your country’s blood. | 10 |
| Like Esop’s greedy cur you ’ll gain a shadow for your bone, | |
| Yet find us fearful shades indeed, inspired by Washington. | |
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| Mysterious! unexampled! incomprehensible! | |
| The blundering schemes of Britain, their folly, pride, and zeal. | |
| Like lions how ye growl and threat! mere asses have you shown, | 15 |
| And ye shall share an ass’s fate, and drudge for Washington! | |
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| Your dark, unfathom’d counsels our weakest heads defeat, | |
| Our children rout your armies, our boats destroy your fleet, | |
| And to complete the dire disgrace, coop’d up within a town, | |
| You live, the scorn of all our host, the slaves of Washington! | 20 |
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| Great heaven! is this the nation whose thundering arms were hurl’d, | |
| Through Europe, Afric, India? whose navy ruled a world? | |
| The lustre of your former deeds, whole ages of renown, | |
| Lost in a moment, or transferred to us and Washington! | |
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| Yet think not thirst of glory unsheaths our vengeful swords, | 25 |
| To rend your bands asunder, and cast away your cords. | |
| ’T is heaven-born freedom fires us all, and strengthens each brave son, | |
| From him who humbly guides the plough, to godlike Washington. | |
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| For this, Oh could our wishes your ancient rage inspire, | |
| Your armies should be doubled, in numbers, force, and fire. | 30 |
| Then might the glorious conflict prove which best deserved the boon, | |
| America, or Albion; a George, or Washington! | |
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| Fired with the great idea, our fathers’ shades would rise; | |
| To view the stern contention, the gods desert their skies. | |
| And Wolfe; ’mid hosts of heroes, superior bending down, | 35 |
| Cry out with eager transport, God save great Washington! | |
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| Should George, too choice of Britons, to foreign realms apply, | |
| And madly arm half Europe, yet still we would defy | |
| Turk, Hessian, Jew, and Infidel, or all those powers in one, | |
| While Adams guides our senate, our camp great Washington! | 40 |
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| Should warlike weapons fail us, disdaining slavish fears, | |
| To swords we ’ll beat our ploughshares, our pruninghooks to spears, | |
| And rush, all desperate! on our foe, nor breathe till battle won; | |
| Then shout, and shout America! and conquering Washington! | |
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| Proud France should view with terror, and haughty Spain revere, | 45 |
| While every warlike nation would court alliance here. | |
| And George, his minions trembling round, dismounting from his throne, | |
| Pay homage to America, and glorious Washington! | |
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