Hence British freedom, rights and laws,
From whence her glories spring,
The prayer of grateful Britain draws,
On George its gracious King.

Great George and Charlotte's happy reign,

In union binds the land,

And scatters blessings o'er the main

With a benignant hand:

The regal stock its royal fruit

Like ivy round it clings,

From whence its spreading branches shoot,

A race of future Kings.

Chorus.

Thence English, Scotch, and Irishmen,
With heart and voice shall sing,
While Brunswick's line adorns the throne,
God save our gracious King!

The Voice of Britain.

way, my brave boys, haste away to the shore, ur foes, the vile French, boast they 're straight coming o'er,

> murder and plunder, and ravish and burn!

et them come-we 'll take care they shall never return: or around the white cliffs, hark! the notes loudly ring, Brave Britons are ready,

Steady, boys, steady,

fight for old England, our laws, and our Queen.

They know that united, we, sons of the waves,
Would ne'er bow to Frenchmen, nor grovel like slave
So before they durst venture to touch on our strand,
They strove with sedition to poison our land.
But around the, &c.

They swore we were slaves, were all lost and undone That a Jacobin nostrum, as sure as a gun,

Would make us all equal, and happy and free; 'Twas only to dance round their liberty tree.

No, no, round the cliffs, &c.

But their note is now changed, and they threaten

pour

Their hosts on our land, to lay waste and devour;
To drench our fair fields and our cities in gore,
Nor cease to destroy till Old England's no more.
Let them come, if they dare-hark! &c.

My sweet rosy Nan is a true British wife,
And loves her dear Dick as she loves her own life;
Yet she ties on my knapsack, and smiles while I go
To meet the proud French, and to lay their heads low
And chaunts round the, &c.

And Ned, my brave boy, with a true English heart,
Has entirely forsaken his plough and his cart:
His farm he has quitted to dig in a trench,
And all for the sake of a cut at the French.

While he sings all day long, let the notes, &

Away, then, my boys, haste away to the shore,

Our foes, the vile French, boast they're straight coming o'er,

To murder, and plunder, and ravish, and burn,

They may come-but by

For around the, &c.

! they shall never return.

We Want no Kepublic.

Ye brave loyal heroes who honour the Queen,
See the thistle, the rose, and the shamrock so green,
Twined firmly together despite "the Repeal."
Base traitors may preach up sedition and strife,
And demagogues cry out for "war to the knife;"
They may try to dissever the shamrock and rose,
But remember such men are Hibernia's worst foes:
We want no Republic, we'll have no Repeal.

Fair liberty, England has built thee a throne,
The laws of our country through Europe are known:
We want no Republic, we'll have no Repeal!
The volatile Frenchmen may banish their King,
And the Prussians concession from Frederick may wring,
But Britain was first in the work of reform,
And freely bestowed what the French took by storm :
We want no Republic, we'll have no Repeal!

Ever dear to our hearts, chiefest blessing of Heaven, s the freedom we have in the land that we live in : We want no Republic, we'll have no Repeal!

To gain us this freedom our ancestors bled,

And we swear by the blood which our forefathers shed To fight to the last in fair liberty's cause,

And guard our religion, our Queen, and our laws:

We want no Republic, we'll want no Repeal! Should France e'er attempt, or by fraud, or by guile, Her forces to land on our Emerald Isle,

To form a Republic, and force the Repeal,

We'll show to the world that we'll never be slaves, And the French shall possess our green fields for their

graves.

Should the torrent of war ever burst on our land,

For our Queen and the Union till death firm we'll stand : We want no Republic, we'll have no Repeal!

King William.

To William, wise, the good and great,
Old Europe owes a mighty debt;

Queen Bess maintained the Reformation,
But Nassau settled its foundation.

From France's yoke and Rome's false creed,
The Hollanders by him were freed,
And Britain's isles by him were saved,
From bigots cruel and depraved.

To him the Pope's weak minion owes
A blessing which he little knows,
Or now forgets, from terror freed,
The privilege to change his creed:

A liberty by thousands taken,
Who fraud and error have forsaken.
O'er Thomond's fields, O'Bryan's race
Think Popery a foul disgrace.

O'Neil, once deemed the Pope's right hand,
In True Blue ranks holds high command,
O'Sheridans, in Cavan famed,

The Popish creed have long disclaimed, Of bulls, and beads, and mass ashamed. An hundred years ago, O'Donnell Renounced the "BEAST" in old Tyrconnell ; McMahon's race in fruitful Clare, Abhor Priestcraft and Latin prayer: Fitzgibbon on fair Limerick's plain, The Monks and Masshouses disdain ; The Rourks in Mayo, once renowned, Among high Protestants are found. Clawickard's Marquis in Galway own No fealty, but to England's throne; To William's sword, as all men know, The "Habeas Corpus" act we owe. Our thanks to him we may express, For all the freedom of our press; The lawyer, too, who now delights In William's boon, the Bill of Rights. Free from the bailiff, dun, and setter, The Sabbath-day he gave the debtor; His deeds by Addison were sung, And gallant Wellesley, too, when young, His harp in William's praises strung.