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They fwear they'll invade us thefe terrible foes, They'll frighten our women, our children, and beaus, But mould their flat bottoms in darknefs get o'er, Still Britons they'll find to receive them afliore.
We'll make them run, and we'll ftill make them
fweat,
In fpite of the devil; or BruflelPs Gazette, Then, cheer up, my lads ! with one voice let us fing Our foldiers, our failors, our ftatefmen and King !
��THE MIDDLESEX FARMER.
>T night with the woodlark I reft, I rife each morn with the fame, By the note of the nightingale how I am bleft, I laugh at the trumpet, the trumpet of fame.
My meals without riches are crown 'd Fair temperance comes in their ftead,
At my table tho' plenty be found, By virtue my footfteps are led.
From the top of my primrofe hill,
How many proud buildings 1 fee, Lt-t the lords of 'em envy who will,
My eafe and my cottage for me.
I labour, but leave when I pleafe,
I fludy, but not to my hurt, My life is a compound of eafe,
Avoiding .all courtiers at court,
B 3 Peace
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