INSTEAD of a song, boys, I'll give you a toast,
Here 's to the memory of those on the twelfth that we lost;
That we lost, did I say, nay, by heav'n that we found;
For their fame it shall last while the world goes round.
The next in succession, I'll give you the King,
Whoe'er wou’d betray him, on high may he swing;
And here's the grand fabric, our free Constitution,
As built on the base of the great Revolution;
And longer with Politics, not to be cramm'd,
Be Anarchy curs'd, and be Tyranny damn'd;
And who wou’d to Liberty e'er prove disloyal,
May his son be a hangman-and he his first trial.