CAVALIER TUNES I MARCHING ALONG KENTISH Sir Byng stood for his King, Marched them along, fifty-score strong, God for King Charles! Pym and such carles To the Devil that prompts 'em their treasonous parles! Cavaliers, up! Lips from the cup, Hands from the pasty, nor bite take nor sup CHORUS. Marching along, fifty-score strong, Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song? Hampden to hell, and his obsequies' knell. Serve Hazelrig, Fiennes, and young Harry as well! England, good cheer! Rupert is near! Then, God for King Charles! Pym and his snarls To the Devil that pricks on such pestilent Hold by the right, you double your might; II. GIVE A ROUSE King Charles, and who 'll do him right now? King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now? Give a rouse: here's, in hell's despite now, King Charles! Who gave me the goods that went since? Who helped me to gold I spent since? King Charles, and who's ripe for figh Give a rouse: here's, in hell's despite now, King Charles! To whom used my boy George quaff else, King Charles, and who's ripe for fight Give a rouse: here 's, in hell's despite now, King Charles! 12 20 III BOOT AND SADDLE Boot, saddle, to horse and away! Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say; Many's the friend there, will listen and pray God's luck to gallants that strike up the layCHORUS.-Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!" 8 Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay, array: Who laughs, “Good fellows ere this, by my fay, CHORUS.-Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!" 12 Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay, Laughs when you talk of surrendering, “Nay! I've better counsellors; what counsel they? WHEN Britain first, at Heaven's command, Arose from out the azure main, The nations not so blest as thee Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall; While thou shalt flourish, great and free, The dread and envy of them all. Still more majestic shalt thou rise, More dreadful from each foreign stroke; As the loud blast that tears the skies Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame; All their attempts to bend thee down But work their woe, and thy renown. To thee belongs the rural reign; Thy cities shall with commerce shine; The Muses, still with Freedom found," Blest Isle! with matchless beauty crowned, 1740. 18 22 26 James Thomson. ENGLAND AND AMERICA IN 1782 O THOU that sendest out the man Strong mother of a Lion-line, Be proud of those strong sons of thine What wonder if in noble heat Those men thine arms withstood, 10 |