Page:Pocock's Everlasting Songster.djvu/152

 ( 122 ) THE INVASION.

��"HIL >T happy in my native land,

So great, fo fam'd in ftory, Let's join, my friends, with heart and hand

To raife our Country's glory : When Britain calls, her valiant fons Wi.l rufh in crowds to aid her ; Snatch, vour mufkets, prime your guns, And crufh the fierce invader !

WhiJft every Briton's fong fhall be, " O give us death ^or victory !"

Long had this favoured ifle enjoy'd

True comforts, paft exprelfing ; When France .-her hellifh arts employ 'd,

To rob <us of each bleffing : Thefe from our hearths by force to tear

(Which long vwe've learn 'd to cherifli) Our frantic fues fhall vainly dare ;

WV11 keep 'em, or we'll perifh. \ And every day our fong fhall be,

'* Or give us death or victory !"

Let France in favage accents fing

tier bloody Revolution ; We prize our Country, love our King,

Adore our Conft'tution. Forthefe we'll every danger face,

And quit our ruftic labours; Our pioughs to firelocks give place, Our fcythes we'll change to fabres. Ami tiad in amis cur fongs fhall be, 44 O give us death or victory !"

Soon

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