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[Music ]
WHat are these Ideots doing,
That daily their Feuds advance;
As if they were pursuing,
New ways to favour France?
For shame give over your Dance;
Your National danger see;
No longer forfeit your sense,
But agree, ye rash Britains, agree.
Whilst strange and trivial Reasons,
The whimsical Brain allures;
You lose the happy Season,
That shou'd encourage your Powers.
The Monsieur is at your Doors,
And if he received must be;
The Shame and the Scandal is Yours:
Then agree, ye Rash Britains agree.
Ye Soaring High-flown People,
In Politicks so profound,
You climb so high on your Steeple,
It makes your Brain turn round.
