Gow's Fareweel to Whiskey/John Bull Is His Name

by Anonymous

JOHN BULL IS HIS NAME.

WHILST some of the ancients are lavish in praise,
And boast what great characters brighten’d days,
I’ll sing you a man not unnotic’d by fame.
That shall rival them all, and John Bull is his name,

His pasture, brave fellow, is liberty’s field,
Fenc’d round by religion, impregnable shield!
Of concience and rights he’s so fully aware,
That his motto must strike you, ’tis ‘touch them who dare!

Constitution his collar, just laws his gold chain
Which, by magic elastic, extends o’er the main,
Where, in grand amphitheatres of wood, his dread roar,
Spreads terror or stillness, on every shore,

His patience and power have often been try’d,
The first does him honor, the last is his pride;
Yet so gen’rous his nature, all iv’ry he scorns,
But woe to the man that dares play with his horns.

Shou’d Boney once venture to come within reach
Of John, as he rambles along the green beach,
I’d lay a round wager, one hundred to ten,
That he’ll never say, ‘parlez vous Francois’ again.

So now brother Britons, It’s cheerfully sing,
Long life to John Bull, and his Keeper the King,
Nor forget the good lady, Old England, their mother,
For sure the whole world can’t produce such another.