Verse 1
The doctrine is old, and obsolete too,
That Subjects shoud render to Cesar his due:
The things which are his, are his own proper right;
But right must give way to oppression and might:
Prescription and laws, constitution and charters
Are all swallow’d up by an army of Tartars,
Who have conquer’d the nation, the mob, and the House,
So for Country and King they care not a louse.

Verse 2
The patriot-clans, by treason unawed,
Despoil’d him at first of his empire abroad,
And now the Republican Harpies are come,
To strip him of all his dominions at home:
In so lavish a King they cannot confide
For himself and a family large to provide,
So Hibernian Pity the Faction engages
Both his children and Him to put out at board-wages.

Verse 3
T’were Madness, they cry, in a Monarch to trust
Who woud trample Americans brave in the dust,
(If his absolute will he were suffer’d to have)
And free Britons at last by his Tories inslave:
Within proper bounds t’was high time to reduce him,
But first for our own private purposes use him,
To bully, and threaten, to humble and tame,
Till he gives us a grant of whatever we claim.

Verse 4
Our freedom and rights we can never secure
If we leave him a single Prerogative sure,
If the load of our slanders we rashly remove,
And suffer his Subjects their Monarch to love:
But we still must cajole, and throw dust in their eyes
That they still may oppose him and hate and despise
And be ready to act whatsoever we say
And implicitly all our commands to obey.

Verse 5
We allow him at present, a pitiful thing,
To make use of the name and the stile of a King,
But the slave of the people must always confess
Tis Ours to set up, or pull down, as we please:
For howe’er we permit him to reign for an hour,
We shall give him to know our unlimited power,
To rob, and abuse, to insult him and mock
Or command him—to lay down his head on a block.