Then crowned with laurel, (for vent’ring our lives)
Home then we’ll return to our sweethearts and wives,
What joy will be greater, our fame shall abound,
The bells then shall ring, and the trumpets shall sound.
Let each loyal Briton then fill up his glass,
For to drive care away, so round let it pass,
Drink a health to king George, who sits on his throne,
(Whose power the French to their sorrow have known,)
May the Heavens above preserve him from harm,
And ever defend him from foreign alarm.