Still, as I spin these verses out,
I hear the politicians shout,
And martial music greets mine ear,
Whilst the loud cannon’s voice I hear.
Processions long, of all sorts made,
Full oft our frightened streets parade;
Stump speeches, too, are cheap and stale,
And up Salt River many sail.
Ah! whither shall I turn to find
Serenity and peace of mind?