That morn was seen by all the town
King William’s brow without a crown;
But ere yon autumn sun went down,
’Twas circled most expensively.
The Debt still deepens. Could we save
A trifle, Hume might cease to rave.
Waive, Rundell, half your profits waive,
And charge as low as possible.
Few, few shall gain where many pay;
The people must the cost defray,