In quietude well end our days,
In some nice pleasant cot,
On the glory that my hero’s gained,
And the money he has got;
And when at last his hair turns grey,
I'll cherish my old dear,
And I'll think of the time when he fought in his prime,
As a British Volunteer.
Then sound the trumpet, &o.
Put your Shoulder to the Wheel.
[Set to Music by George Simpson, and published by Messrs. D’Almaine and Co., 20, Soho Square, London, to whom the Copyright belongs.]
They tell us times are very bad, they say there’s great distress,
But think ye that to talk about will ever make it less;
Oh, no! 'twere far the better plan, the wiser course a deal,
To leave off grumbling, and to put your shoulder to the wheel.
Few evils that this country knows but what would soon give place,
If men would only calmly meet and look them in the face;
Self brought about, as I contend, they are, there’s little doubt
That we who caus'd their growth possess the power to put them out.
