⁠⁠O, Carleton, may thy name
⁠⁠Live in endless fame,
Thou great, thou gallant enemy!
⁠⁠Of chiefs for Britain's crown,
⁠⁠Carleton, thou alone
Art blessed with honor and humility.

⁠⁠Thou and Montgomery
⁠⁠When both souls are free,
Shall meet on the celestial plain,
⁠⁠And, though foes below,
⁠⁠There no rancour know
But ever and together live and reign.

⁠⁠America, thy loss
⁠⁠Is a dreadful cross,
Montgomery, the great, the good.
⁠⁠But to expiate
⁠⁠His untimely fate,
Britannia, thou must yet shed tears of blood.

Beneath a verdant, shady bower,
Adorned with many a fragrant flower,
Britannia's queen sat pensively,
Lamenting her sad destiny.

Her numerous offspring round her throng
Attentive to her plaintive song,
When thus her Majesty begun,
"My dearest babes, we are undone.

"For I on every side can see
Nought but impending misery;
With reason, then, I curse the day
I was advanced to regal sway.

"In Mecklenburg, my native soil,
Ere that I knew this cursed isle,
I roved a virgin princess bright,
And revelled in unmixed delight.

"But when demanded by your sire
Ye gods! my soul was all on fire;
My fancy roved from scene to scene,
In prospect mighty Britain's queen.

"Revolving years rolled smoothly on,
Nor had a thorn yet pierced my crown;
One round of pleasure and delight,
Adorned by day and crowned by night.

"But when your father did advise
With your great grandsire's enemies,
A gloomy cloud hung o'er my head,
And filled me with eternal dread.

"With prayers and tears I often strove
The sad occasion to remove,
I often did my Lord implore
To grant a peace to yonder shore.

"But those pernicious vermin still
Did urge him on from ill to ill;
And by their craft conducted so
As proves Great Britain's overthrow.

"Those rebels, though they bear the name,
'Tis we, not they, sure, are to blame,
Have acted with such dignity,
Are surely worthy to live free.

"I trembling sit upon my throne,
I cannot wear this mangled crown.
See how it trembles on my head!
I wish, my babes, that we were dead!

"Oh, were my head a flood of tears,
That I might wash away my fears,
And mitigate my inward dread;
Alas! I wish that we were dead."

Vain Britons, boast no longer, with proud indignity,
By land your conquering legions, your matchless strength by sea;
Since we, your braver sons in truth, our swords have girded on,
Huzza! huzza! huzza! huzza! for war and Washington.

Urged on by North and vengeance, your valiant champions come,
Loud bellowing, tea and treason, and George was all your theme;
But, sacrilegious as it seems, we rebels still live on,
And laugh at all your empty puffs, huzza for Washington!

Still deaf to mild entreaty, still blind to England's good,
You have, for thirty pieces, sold your country's blood;
Like Æsop's greedy cur, you'll find a shadow for your bone,
You'll find no fearless shades indeed, inspired by Washington.

Mysterious, unexampled, incomprehensible,
The blundering schemes of Britain, your folly, pride, and zeal;
Like lions though you growl and fight, mere asses you have shown,
Then you shall share the asses' fate, and drudge for Washington.

Should George, to succor Britain, to foreign realms apply,
And madly arm half Europe, yet still we would defy