Verse 1
Come away to the chase! the Republican Pack
With a rabble of Livery-men all at their back,
Have started the Stag; and resolve to press on
Till the blood-thirsty hellhounds have hunted him down,
And worried to death, without mercy or pity,
To make a magnificent Feast for the City.

Verse 2
The City so famed for their exquisite taste
In the present, as well as the century past,
At their annual Club who so greedily feed,
And to Turtle itself prefer a Calf’s head,
Shall be treated again with the Cannibal’s food,
And royally drunk at a banquet of blood.

Verse 3
So they promise and vow who triumphantly sing
For their victory over their Country and King:
Their King they have conquer’d, and routed his friends,
In pursuit of their own diabolical ends,
By hard strugling and lying their purpose attain’d,
And by Treason—at last, a Majority gain’d!

Verse 4
With what madness and rage do they now lay about ’em,
The old ministers threaten, and rage, till they out ’em!
“But the worst of them all, for whose horrible crime
“His blood shall atone, is the Minister Prime!”
In billingsgate language, and highwaymen’s phrase,
They command him to STAND AND DELIVER—his Place.

Verse 5
Our soldiers abroad they forbid to oppose,
Or molest, or annoy their innocent foes,
But tamely to give all the Loyalists up
To the Rebels, or French, to the Sword, or the Rope,
To keep out of harm’s way, and their weapons lay down,
Till the Mob has secur’d their Republican Crown.

Verse 6
But true Englishmen hope, that the Nation o’rereach’d
Will recover their wits, and awake unbewitch’d,
Then the Traitors at home, and the Agents of France
Will finish their course with a sorrowful dance,
Then we all shall unite in defence of our King,
And the Rebels at last, and the Patriots, swing!