TRIO.
Fall too,
Ye Royal crew!
Eat! Eat your bellies full! pray do!
At treats I never winces:—
The Queen shall say,
Once in a way,
Her maids have been well cramm’d—her young ones din’d like Princes!
FULL CHORUS—accompanied by the whole HOGGERY.
For this BIG MORN
GREAT GEORGE was born!
The tidings all the Poles shall ring!
Due homage will I pay,
On this, thy native day,
GEORGE! by the grace of God, my rightful KING!!!!
NUMBER IV.
ODE,
By SIR RICHARD HILL, BART.
Hail, pious Muse of saintly love,
Unmix’d, unstain’d with earthly dross!
Hail Muse of Methodism, above
The Royal Mews at Charing-cross!
Behold both hands I raise;
Behold both knees I bend;
Behold both eye-balls gaze!
Quick, Muse, descend, descend!
Meek Muse of Madan, thee my soul invokes—
Oh point my pious puns! oh sanctify my jokes!