The congregation, demon rous'd,
Arose with one accord;
And, shameful, put their trust in Prince,
And left the living Lord.
They helter skelter sought the door,
The Church did them disgorge;
With fiercest fury, then they flew,
Like Dragons to the "George."
As through Churchyard with tumult dire
And wild uproar they fled;
Confusion was so great, some thought
They would have rais'd the Dead.
The Parson cried, with loudest lungs,
"For love of God, pray stay!"
But love of Prince more prevalent,
Soon hied them fast away.
The Demon hov'ring o'er their heads,
Exulted as they pass'd;
"Friend Belzebub," the Parson cried,
"Thou'st got a Prize at last."
The Clerk then to his master said,
"We're left behind complete;
What harm if we start off for Prince,
And run the second heat?"
The Parson with good Capon lin'd,
Then ran with middling haste;
Spare Clerk, was at his rear, who knew,
"Amen," should come the last.
Amidst the mob, they soon descried
The Prince, Great Britain's Heir;
Then with the Mob they both did join,
And play'd at gape and stare.
Their wish the sovereign People show,
Impress'd with one accord;
It was to turn themselves to beasts,
And draw their future Lord.
The Prince put forth what's filled with sense,
It was his Royal sconce:
Insisted they should act like men,
And break their rules for once.