But it’s O in my heart, how I’ll hide him should he come.
Where and O where does this little Boney dwell?
His birth place is in Corsica—but France he likes so well,
That it’s O the poor French, how they crouch beneath his spell.
What cloathes and what cloathes does this little Boney wear?
He wears a large cock’d hat for to make the people stare;
But it’s O my oak stick! I’d advise him to take care!
What shall be done, should this little Boney die?
Nine cats shall squall his dirge, in sweet melodious cry,
And it’s O in my heart, if a tear shall dim my eye!
Yet still he boldly brags, with consequence full cramm’d
On England’s happy island, his legions he will land;
But it’s O in my heart, if he does may I be d——d.”