Come listen every Lord and Lady,
‘Squire, Gentleman, and Statesman,
I’ve got a little Song to sing,
About a very great Man!
And, if the Name of Bonaparte
Should mingle in my Story,
’Tis with all due submission
T’ his Honour’s Worship’s Glory.
Bow, wow, wow, &c.
The kindness of this philanthropic
Gentleman extending,
From Shore to Shore, Colossus like,
Their grievances amending,
To Britain would reach, if he could,
From fancied Ills to save ye;
But tho’ he likes us vastly well,
He does not like our Navy!
Bow, wow, wow, &c.
With Egypt, once, he fell in Love,
Because it was the high Road,
To India, for himself and friends
To travel by a nigh Road;
And after making mighty Fuss,
And fighting Day and Night there,
’Twas vastly ungenteel of us,
Who would not let him stay there.
Bow, wow, wow, &c.
A Nobleman was sent to him,
For Negotiation able,
And Bonaparte kindly set
Him down at his own Table,
And in a Story, two Hours long,
The Gentleman was heard in,
Whilst our Ambassador declar’d
He could not get a word in.
Bow, wow, wow, &c.
With Belles and Beaux the drawing-room
One morning it was quite full,
And Bona, like a Bantam cock,
Came crowing rather spiteful;
He then began to huff and bluff,
To show that War his Trade is;
He scolded all the Englishmen,
And frighten’d all the Ladies!!!
Bow, wow, wow, &c.
From Malta, next, he took his Text,
My Lord look’d rather blue on ’t;
For every Trick the Consul had,
My Lord had one worth two on ’t;
Why, Gen’ral, says he, ’Sdeath and Fire,
Unless you cease these Capers,
They’ll publish every word you say
In all the English Papers.
Bow, wow, wow, &c.
My Lord, says he, you needs must see,
I pity British Blindness,
And wish to open all your Eyes,
Out of pure Love and Kindness,
To make a generous People free,
My Legions shall pell mell come,
What think you then?—Why, Sir, I think
They’d be more free than welcome.
Bow, wow, wow, &c.
When I come o’er, I’ll make all Britons
Live in perfect bliss, Sir,
I’m sure they will receive me just
As kindly as the Swiss, Sir.
The Odds an hundred are to one
I fail, tho’ Fortune’s Minion.
Says our Ambassador to him,
I’m quite of your opinion.
Bow, wow, wow, &c.
My Lord, says he, I’ll take the Field.
You’d better take the Ocean.
My plans are deep.—Why, yes, they’ll reach
The Bottom, I’ve a Notion.
What would the English think to see
Me ’twixt Boulogne and Dover?
Why, General, they’d surely think
Your Worship half seas over!
Bow, wow, wow, &c.