Consider how you lose Ground,
If Foreigners Master be,
Whilst you with Maggots abound;
Then agree, silly Britains, agree.
And you, whose senseless Jargon,
Contentious Night and Morn,
Declaims against an Organ,
As 'twere a Sow-gelder's Horn:
Let Concord's Power adorn
Your Hearts, if wise you'll be,
Nor longer merit a Scorn;
But agree, silly Britains, agree.
'Tis known you are richly landed,
And you have a place at Court;
And you the Bank have commanded,
And you have two Ships in Port,
Yet still ye Reason retort;
And if ye ruin'd must be,
'Tis all rank Folly in short;
Then agree, silly Britains, agree.
Religious Safety doubted
Still makes the Nation groan,
You make such Stirs about it,
Some Wise Heads think you have none;
But all is for Interest done,
As faith it likely may be,
Let that Point stated be known,
And agree, ye rash Britains, agree.
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