THE FRENCH INVASION.
Published May 10th, 1794.
Some wags, taking advantage of the alarm of invasion in March, 1794, sent two letters, with the counterfeit signatures of two magistrates in Northumberland, to the Mayor of Newcastle, stating, that a party of French had landed on the coast, near Bambrough; this occasioned some bustle in Newcastle; 270l. reward was afterward offered in vain for the discovery of the writers.
“Now fill a bumper to the brim,
“And drink to Gotham’s mayor;
“And when again he hears such news,
“May Fa——berg be there.”
Thus lately in a loyal song,
Sung some right loyal bard;
And righteous too, no doubt was he,
For lo! his prayer was heard.
News, direful news from Bambro’ came,
The French were landed there;
A letter, written with all speed,
Was sent to Gotham’s mayor.
“The crews of three French ships of war,
Have landed in our coast,
Send for Lord F——berg,” quoth he,
“Or we shall all be lost.
“Our bullocks they have ta’en away,
Our cows and sheep besides.”
“O woe betide them,” says our mayor,
“They’ll raise the price of HIDES.”
“Fear not, fear not,” says F——berg,
Who now before him stood,
“To guard you I will spend my last,
Last drop of noble blood!”
On this our mayor began to hold
Erect his drooping head;
“I will not,” quoth Lord F——berg,
“This night lay down my head.
“To guard-house I will hie with speed,
And watch ’till morn appear;
Each Gothamite may soundly sleep,
No cause have they to fear.”
“Meantime” says Gotham’s mayor, “I will
In haste, a letter write
To George our king, some ships to send,
To intercept their flight.”
To George our king the tidings came,
At London where he lay;
“What! cattle, cattle, sheep indeed!—
To Windsor haste away;
“Lock up my pretty little sheep,
My pigs and geese likewise;
No bloody Frenchman shall destroy
What I so dearly prize.
“Then run tell Billy Pitt to come,
And bring his brother here;
But first call Tom the butler up,
To get me some small beer.
“How happens Chat—m, that no ships
You have sent to the North?
Not one, I’m told, is to be seen
From Thames unto the Forth.”
“So please you,” bowing low, says John,
“I would have sent a few,
But that I thought you’d want them here
Against the next REVIEW.”
“That’s right, that’s right,” reply’d our king,
“One ship I cannot spare:
And if the French do get their sheep,
Why—let them take more care.
“Example let them take by me,
And they’ll receive no harm;
Shut them all up as I have done,
Upon my Windsor farm.”
So spake our gracious lord,
And so I end my song;
May heaven from rots preserve his sheep,
And may his life be long!
BLYTH CAMPS: Or, the Girl I left behind Me.
In 1795, near Blyth there was an encampment, the troops of which, consisting of 13 regiments of horse and foot, were reviewed on the 28th of August, that year, by the Duke of York, in the presence of upwards of 60,000 spectators.
I’m lonesome since I left BLYTH camps,
And o’er the moor that’s sedgy;
With heavy thoughts my mind is fill’d,
Since I parted with my Betsy:
Whene’er I turn to view the place,
The tears fall down and blind me;
When I think on the charming grace
Of her I left behind me.
The hours I remember well,
When first from her they mov’d me;
The burning flames my heart doth tell,
Since first she own’d she lov’d me:
In search of some one fair and gay,
Several doth remind me;
I know my darling loves me well,
Tho’ I left her behind me.
The bees shall cease to make a store,
The dove become a ranger:
The falling waters cease to roar,
Before I’ll ever change her.
Each mutual promise faithful made,
By her whom tears remind me;
I bless the hours I pass’d away
With her I left behind me.
My mind her image will retain,
Whether asleep or waking;
I hope to see my love again,
For her my heart is breaking.
If e’er I chance to go that way,
And she has not resign’d me;
I’ll reconcile my mind and stay
With her I left behind me.