Page:Emperor's wedding, or, Bonaparte's 2d marriage.pdf/4



Then the joke to clinch,
 * The midwife on that gay day,

Says yes! within an inch,
 * For bliſs you 'tis a lady.

Now of this firſt of men,
 * The wiſdom ſurely sickens;

Whoe'er has got a hen,
 * Begins to count his chickens;

And ſays with proudeſt ſcorn,
 * His offſpring shall attack us;

But yet, the child's unborn
 * That knows the way to whack us.

Ye Mariners of England,
 * that guard our native ſeas,

Whoſe flag has brav'd a thouſand years,
 * the battle and the breeze,

Your glorious Standard launch again,
 * to match another foe,

And ſweep thro' the deep,
 * while the ſtormy tempeſts blow

While the battle rages long and loud,
 * And the ſtormy tempeſts blow.