A New Roast Beef

NOW Old England's Flag is Commander in Chief,
With Monsieur our Monarch turn'd o'er a new leaf,
Down, down with French Dishes, up, up with Roast Beef.
O the Roast Beef, &c.

In Flat-botloms, slily, those schemers were coasting,
They threaten'd Invasion, but spite of their boasting,
No Ribs of Roast Beef had they; but a Rib roasting.

While good English Beef, and good English Brown Beer,
Please our tastes, and each day on our tables appear,
What more can we hope for, or what can we fear?

The Spaniards once strove, by the strength of their Guns,
To make us keep Lent, and to turn our Girls Nuns,
But we still roast our Beef, for we basted the Dons.

At Minorca indeed, tho' I speak it with grief,
Our Garrison fainted for want of relief,
They grew out of Hopes as they grew out of Beef.

But at Minden, well fed, why we there fac'd about,
Right and Left, Van and Rear, Foot and Horse, put to rout;
They wou'd be in our Beef—but, avast, they were out.

To plunder our Cupboards, France sent the Brest Fleet,
We a belly-full gave them without any meat;
they then sold their Plates 'cause they'd nothing to eat.

We came, saw, and conquer'd, the French Lilies droop,
Louisbourg, Montreal, Martinique, Guadaloupe,
Their towns we toss'd up, just as they swallow Soup.

By the strength of our Beef we our Bulwarks maintain,
As Liberty's first-born, and Lords of the Main;
And those deeds are witness'd by France and by Spain.

All Knights, by their Titles, in Heraldry shine,
Nay, Writers Romantic have stiled some divine,
But what are their Sirs to Old England's Sir-loin.

Let us honour this Dish, 'tis in dignity chief,
For garnish will give it the noblest relief:
Here's LIBERTY,—LOYALTY,—AYE,—and ROAST BEEF.
O the Roast Beef, &c.