Ourself will lead the ladies’ army on,
Charge at its head like Scott’s brave Marmion;
You fight as angels fought before
In heaven, so Milton says, of yore.
The swart south shivers like a leaf,
M’Stuffie shoots himself for grief
At finding all resistance vain,
As battling with a hurricane.
We hold in utter execration
What ’s styled the Temperance Reformation.