The Americans have provisions in store, From the black sea they will send us more, The millers and farmers will look blue, They’ll not know which way for to do; I hope that trade may flourish once more, Upon this our native shore, Then the working man will be right glad To see his children well cloth’d and fed.
The maltsters and brewers they stamp and swear, With sugar and treacle must brew their beer, For all the malt that they do use, Must all be made into barley loaves; So drunkards all I tell to you true, It’s old hock you must bid adieu! No more of that will be I vow, So you must drink all treacle now.
Now, to conclude and make an end, I hope the times they soon will mend, Send trade and commerce to our shore, Then the working men will grieve no more, In peace and unity, they will unite, Then all the nation will be right, I hope I have said nothing wrong, So now I finish off my song.
Come gentlemen listen awhile, And hear how they carry the jest on, I’m sure it will cause you to smile, Such fun there is at the Election. To Brentford the Voters repair, Two Knights of the Shire to elect, Old Nero each Slave doth ensnare, Whilst the Free vote for Byng and Burdett. Fal de ral lal de ral lal de ral.
The mob are all silent and hush’d, To hear Orator Tub on the green, Some with laughter are ready to burst, And others with malice spleen, He tells you a terrible tale, Of a Damn’d Diabolical Crew, Who Innocents starv’d in a Jail, And the worst of it is--IT IS TRUE! Fal lal de ral.
There’s the case of poor Mary Rich, Indeed ’tis a horrible story, Much about it he’s not time to preach, But look round and you’ll see it before you. Can you such a monster approve, Whose voice on the Hustings doth falter? His conduct your anger must move-- Give your Vote--give the Rascal a Halter. Fal de ral.
At four the Poll closes and then His heart with fear bounces and capers, ’Till his carriage he’s safely within, Surrounded by all the Thief-takers. There’s Myrmidons sturdy and bold, For the Quorum they care not a button. They’d bother em all I am told, If led on by Commodore Dutton. Fal lal de ral.
But Byng is a Man you’ve twice try’d, From his duty he never did flinch, He scorns Aristocracy’s pride, And Despots will fight inch by inch. Then Electors now give him a voice. And however the Tyrants may fret, Join him with the man of your choice, Independent Sir Francis Burdett. Fal de ral.