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⟨We⟩ need not blame the plow.
For we have malt and barley,
⟨With⟩ plenty of each grain;
⟨And⟩ if our ale be weakly,
⟨The⟩ leſs it harms our brain,
⟨We’ll⟩ get but little beef or cheeſe,
⟨And⟩ cloaths we’ll get but few,
⟨So⟩ we must learn to be content.
⟨With⟩ what ſprings from the plow
Such things is now become so dear,
⟨Beef⟩, mutton, wool, and cheeſe,
⟨Great⟩ men for ſuch commodities
⟨Can⟩ juſt have what they pleaſe,
⟨The⟩ poor no meat nor cloaths,
⟨Nor⟩ any thing that’s new,
⟨For⟩ every thing gives double price,
⟨But⟩ what ſprings from the plow.
We hear from diſtant nations,
⟨Of⟩ wars by land and ſea,
⟨Still⟩ making preparations,
⟨Striving⟩ for monarchie.
⟨Still⟩ making new encroachments,
⟨Upon⟩ each others due,
⟨While⟩ we are glad to live in peace,
⟨With⟩ what ſprings from the plow.
Three mighty powers in Europe,
⟨Againſt⟩ us do advance,
⟨Led⟩ by the crafty motions of
⟨That⟩ reſtleſs Fox of France.
May heavens ſend aſſiſtance,
To quell that reſtleſs crew,
