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THE Democratic Songster: BEING A COLLECTION OF THE NEWEST AND MOST ADMIRED Republican Songs, INTERSPERSED WITH MANY ORIGINALS. To which is added, SOME OF THE MOST ADMIRED FRENCH AIRS.
BALTIMORE: PRINTED FOR KEATINGE's BOOK STORE, MARKET-STRET [ To be continued monthly.] M, DCC, XCIV.
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New Songs, &c.
SONG, I. AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE.
TIS done! the edict past, by heaven decreed,
And
Hancock's name confirms the glor'ous deed.
On this auspicious morn
Was Independence born:
Propitious day!
Hail the United States of blest America!
CHORUS.
Fly, swift wing'd Fame,
The news proclaim:
From shore to shore
Let cannon's roar,
And joyful voices shout Columbia's name.
See haughty Britain, sending hosts of foes.
With vengeance arm'd, our freedom to oppose;
[Page 4] But WASHINGTON the great,
Dispell'd impending fate,
And spurn'd each plan:
Americans, combine to hail the godlike man.
CHORUS.— Fly, swift wing'd Fame, &c.
Let Saratoga's crimson plains declare
The deeds of Gates, that "thunderbolt of war:"
His trophies grac'd the field:
He made whole armies yield—
A vet'ran band:
In vain did Burgoyne strive his valour to withstand.
CHORUS— Fly, swift wing'd Fame, &c.
Now Yorktown's heights attract our wond'ring eyes,
Where loud artill'ry rend's the lofty skies:
There WASHINGTON commands,
With Gallia's chosen bands,
A warlike train;
Like Homer's conq'ring gods, they thunder o'er the plain.
CHORUS.— Fly, swift-wing Fame, &c.
Pale terror marches on, with solemn stride;
Cornwall is trembles, Britain's boasted pride;
He and his armed hosts,
Surrender all their posts,
To WASHINGTON,
The friend of Liberty, Columbia's fav'rite son,
HORUS.— Fly, swift-wing'd Fame, &c.
[Page 5]
Now from Mount Vernon's peaceful shades again,
The Hero comes, with thousands in his train:
'Tis WASHINGTON the great
Must fill the chair of state,
Columbia cries:
Each tongue the glorious name re-echoes to the skies.
CHORUS.— Fly, swift-wing'd Fame, &c.
Now shall the useful arts of peace prevail,
And commerce flourish, favor'd by each gale
Discord, forever cease
Let Liberty and Peace
And Justice reign;
For WASHINGTON protects the scientific train.
CHORUS.— Fly, swift-wing'd Fame &c
SONG II. THE HEAVING OF THE LEAD.
WHEN sailing for Columbia's land,
With fav'ring gale our ship we steer'd;
And scudding up to gain the strand,
The lofty pines at length appear'd.
To heave the lead the seaman sprung,
And to the pilot cheerly sung,
By the deep Nike!
[Page 6]
2
And bearing up, to gain the port,
Some well known object kept in view,
An Abbey tow'r an harbour sort;
Or, beacon, to the vessel true,
While oft the lead the seaman flung,
And to the pilot cheerly sung,
"By the mark seven.
3
And as the much lov'd thore was near,
With transport we beheld the roof;
Where dwelt a friend or partner dear,
Of faith and love a matchless proof.
The lead once more the seaman flung,
And to the watchful pilot sung,
"Quarter less five.
SONG III. THE STREAMLET THAT FLOW'D ROUND HER COT.
THE streamlet that flow'd round her cost
All the charms of my Emily knew:
How oft has its course been forgot,
While it paus'd her dear image to woe.
Believe me the food silver tide,
[Page 7] Knew from whence it deriv'd the fair prize,
For silently swelling with pride,
It reflected it back to the skies.
SONG IV. NOTHING LIKE GROG.
A Plague on those musty old lubber
Who tell us to fast and to think,
And patiently fall in with life's rubbers,
With nothing but water to drink.
A cann of good
[...] swigg'd it,
Would have set
[...]
And spite of the rules,
Of the schools, the old fool.
Wou'd have all of them swigg'd it.
And swore there was nothing like grog.
2
My father, when last I from Guine:
[...]'d with abundance of wealth,
Cried—Jack, never be such a ninny
To drink,—Says I—Father, your health,
So I pass'd round the stuff—soon he swigg'd it,
And it set the old codger agog,
And he swigg'd and mother,
And sister and brother,
And I swigg'd, and all of us swigg'd it,
[Page 8] And swore there was nothing like grog.
3
One day when the Chaplain was preaching,
Behind him I curiously slunk,
And while he our duty was teaching
As how we should never get drunk,
I tipt him the stuff, and he twigg'd it,
Which soon set his rev'rence agog,
And he swigg'd, and Nick swigg'd.
And Ben swigg'd, and Dick swigg'd,
And I swigg'd, and all of us swigg'd it,
And swore there was nothing like grog.
4
Then trust me there's nothing as drinking
So pleasant on this side the grave;
It keeps the unhappy from thinking.
And makes e'en more valiant more brave,
For me from the moment I twigg'd it,
The good stuff so set me agog,
Sick or well, late or early,
Wind foully or fairly,
I've constantly swigg'd it,
And hang me there's nothing like grog.
[...]
[Page 11]
I a dark floating dungeon upon the sait wave
Spare a halfpenny, spare a halfpenny,
Spare a halfpenny to a poor Negro.
2
Toss'd on the wild main, I all wildly despairing,
Burst my chains rush'd on deck with my eyeballs wide glaring,
When the lightnings dread blast struck the inlets of day,
And its glorious bright beams shut forever away.
Spare a halfpenny, &c.
3
The despoiler of man then his prospect thus losing,
Of gain by my sale, not a blind bargain choosing,
As my value, compar'd with my keeping, was light,
Had me dash'd overboard, in the dead of night.
Spare a halfpenny, &c.
4
And but for a bark to Brittannia's coast bound then,
All my cares by that plunge in the deep had been drown'd then,
But by moonlight descry'd, I was snatch'd from the wave,
[Page 12] And reluctantly robb'd of a watery grave.
Spare a halfpenny, &c.
5
How disastrous my fate, freedom's ground tho' I tread now,
Torn from home, wife and children and wand'ring for bread now,
While seas toll between us, which ne'er can be cross'd,
And hope's distant glimm'rings in darkness are lost.
Spare a halfpenny, &c.
6
But of minds foul and fair when the judge and the ponderer,
Shall restore light and rest to the blind and the wanderer,
The European's deep dye may outrival the sloe,
And the soul of an Ethiop prove white as the snow.
Spare a halfpenny, &c.
[Page 13]
SONG VIII. THE SWEET LITTLE GIRL THAT I LOVE.
MY friends all declare that my time is mispent,
While in rural retirement I rove;
I ask no more wealth than dame fortune hath sent,
But the sweet little girl that I love.
The rose on her cheek's my delight,
She's soft as the down on the dove,
No lilly was ever so white,
As the sweet little girl that I love.
2
Tho' humble my cot, calm content gilds the scene,
For my fair one delights in my grove;
And a palace I'd quit for a dance on the green,
With my sweet little girl that I love.
The sweet little girl, &c.
3
No ambition I know, but to call her my own,
No same but her praise wish to prove;
My happiness centers in Fanny alone,
She's the sweet little girl that I love.
The sweet little girl, &c.
[Page 14]
SONG X. THE SAILOR BOY CAPERING ASHORE.
POLL dang' it how d'ye do,
Nan won't you g'us a buss;
Why what's to do wi you,
Why here's a pretty suss;
Say, shall we kiss and toy,
Oh! I'm the sailor's boy,
For capering a shore.
2
Father he apprentic'd me,
All to a coasting ship,
I b'ing resolv'd d'ye see,
To give'em all the slip,
I got to Yarmouth fair,
Where I had been before,
So father found me there,
A capering a shore.
3
Next out to India,
I went a Guinea pig,
We got to Table Bay,
But mind a pretty rig,
The ship driven out to sea,
Left me and many more,
Among the Hottenpots,
[Page 15] A capering a shore.
4.
I love's a bit of hop,
Life's ne'er the worser for't,
If in my wake should drop,
A fiddle "that's your sort,"
Thrice tumble up a hoy,
Once get the labour o'er,
Then see the sailor boy,
A capering a shore.
SONG X. ALONE BY THE LIGHT OF THE MOON.
THE day is departed and round from the cloud,
The moon in her beauty appears,
'The voice of the Nightingale warbles aloud,
The music of love in our ears:
Maria, appear now the season so sweet
With the beat of the heart is in tune,
The time is so tender for lovers to meet,
Alone by the light of the moon.
2
I cannot, when present, unfold what I feel;
I sigh—can a lover do more?
Her name to the shepherds I never reveal,
[Page 16] Yet I think of her all the day o'er.
Maria, my love, do you long for the grove?
Do you sigh for an interview soon?
Does ever a kind thought run on me as you rove,
Alone by the light of the moon?
3
Your name from the shepherds whenever I hear,
My bosom is all in a glow;
Your voice when it vibrates so sweet through mine ear,
My heart thrills—my eyes overflow.
Ye pow'rs of the sky, will your bounty divine,
Indulge a sond lover his boon?
Shall heart spring to heart, and Maria be mine,
Alone by the light of the moon.
SONG XI. MY HEART IS DEVOTED DEAR MARY TO THEE.
THO' the Muses ne'er smile by the light of the sun,
Yet they visit my cot when my labour is done,
And whilst on my pillow of straw I recline,
[Page 17] A wreath of sweet flow'rets they sportively twines.
But in vain she fair damsels weave chaplets for me.
Since my heart is devoted dear Mary to thee.
2
Full oft I reflected on my indigent state,
But reflection and reason are ever too late,
They tell me I sigh for too beauteous a fair,
And sill my sad bosom with doubts and despair,
Then hope kindly smiling averts their decree,
For my heart is dovoted dear Mary to thee.
3
When the shrill pipe and tabor proclaim the light dance,
With transports I see my dear Mary advance,
Then such grace she displays while she trips mid the throng,
That each shepherd with raptures to her tunes his song,
But my none she's belov'd with such truth as by me,
For my heart is devoted dear Mary to thee.
[Page 18]
SONG XII. GOD SAVE AMERICA!
GOD save America,
Free from tyrannic sway,
Till time shall cease.
Hush'd be the din of arms,
And all proud war's alarms;
Follow in all her charms,
Heaven born peace.
God bless great Washington,
Fair freedom's chosen son,
Born to command:
May ev'ry enemy
Far from his presence flee,
And be grim tyranny
Bound by his hand.
Thy name, O Montgomery
Full in each heart shall be,
Prais'd in each breath:
Tho' on the fatal plain
Thou wast untimely slain,
Yet shall thy virtues gain
Rescue from death.
[Page 19]
SONG XIII. THE LUCKY ESCAPE.
I THAT was once a ploughman, a sailor am now,
No lark that aloft in the sky.
Ever flutter'd his wings to give speed to the plough,
Was so gay and so careless as I.
But my friend was a carfindo aboard a king's ship.
And he ax'd me to go just to sea for a trip.
And he talk'd of such things,
As if sailors were kings,
And so teazing did keep.
That I left my poor plough to go ploughing the deep.
No longer the horn,
Call'd me up in the morn.
I trusted the carfindo and the inconstant wind,
That made me for to go and leave my dear behind.
2
I did not much like to be aboard a ship,
When in danger there's no door to creep out;
I lik'd the jolly tares, I lik'd bumbo and flir
[...]
But I did not like rocking about;
[Page 20] By and by came a hurricane, I did not like that,
Next a battle that many a sailor laid flat,
Ah! cried I who would roam,
That like me had a home,
When I sow and I'd reap,
Ere I left my poor plough to go ploughing the deep,
Where sweetly the horn,
Call'd me up in the morn,
Ere I trusted the Carfindo and the inconstant wind,
That made me for to go, and leave my dear behind.
3
At last safe I landed and in a whole skin,
Nor did I make any long stay,
Ere I found by a friend that I ax'd for my kin,
Father dead, and my wife ran away:
Ah who but thyself, said I, hast thou to blame,
Wives loosing their husbands oft loose their good name;
Ah why did I roam,
When so happy at home.
I could sow and could reap,
Ere I left my poor plough to go ploughing the deep,
When so sweetly the horn
Call'd me up in the morn,
[Page 21] Curse light upon the carfindo and the inconstant wind,
That made me for to go and leave my dear behind.
4
Why, if that be the case, said this very same friend,
And you b'ent no more minded to roam,
Gis a shake by the fist, all your care's at an end,
Dad's alive, and your wife's safe at home.
Stark starting with joy, I lept out of my skin.
Buss'd my wife, mother, sister, and all of my kin;
Now, cried I, let them roam,
Who want a good home,
I am well, so I'll keep,
Nor again leave my plough to go ploughing the deep:
Once more shall the horn,
Call me up in the morn,
Nor shall any d— carfindo nor the inconstant wind,
E'er tempt me for to go and leave my dear behind.
[Page 22]
SONG XIV. THE MANSION OF PEACE.
A ROSE from her bosom has stray'd.
I'll seek to replace it with art;
But no, 'twill her slumbers invade,
I'll wear it fond youth next my heart.
Alas filly rose had'st thou known,
'Twas Daphne that gave thee thy place
Thou ne'er from thy station had'st flown
Her bosom, the mansion of peace.
SONG XV. DEATH OR VICTORY.
HARK the din of distant war,
How noble is the clangour,
Pale death ascends his ebon care,
Clad in terrific anger.
A doubtful fate the soldier tries
Who joins the gallant quarrel;
Perhaps on the cold ground he lies,
No wife no friend to close his eyes.
[Page 23] Tho' nobly mourn'd; perhaps return'd,
He's crown'd withvictory's lawrel.
2
How many who, disdaining fear,
Rush on the desp'rate duty,
Shall claim the tribute of the tear,
That dims the eye of beauty.
A doubtful fate the soldier tries
Who join the gallant quarrel,
Perhaps on the cold ground he lies,
No wife no friend, to close his eyes,
Tho' nobly mourn'd; perhaps return'd,
He's crown'd with victory's lawrel.
3
What noble fate can fortune give,
Renown shall tell our story
If we should fall, but if we live
We live our country's glory.
'Tis true a doubtful fate he tries,
Who joins the gallant quarrel;
Perhaps on the cold ground he lies,
No wife no friend to close his eyes,
Tho' nobly mourn'd; perhaps return'd,
He's crown'd with victory's lawrel.
[Page 24]
SONG XVI. THE BOWL.
Tune, "When up the shrouds the sailor goes."
WHEN sorrow baneful ills impart,
And woes distract the mind,
Ne'er let vain grief unman the heart,
Disperse it in the wind;
Nor yield like cowards to despair,
Dispel it from the soul,
For there's a balm, a cure for care,
Concentred in the bowl.
Columbia's prop, the hardy tar,
Rough, generous, and free;
If duty calls, attends the war,
And braves the foaming sea:
E'en when unequal foes appear,
No fears torment his soul,
He finds a balm can keep it clear.
Concentred in the bowl.
[Page 25]
SONG XVII. MARSEILLOIS HYMN.
ARISE! ye gen'rous youth of France,
And mark the glory of this day:
'Gainst us the tyrant-throng advance,
And high the bloody flag display.
[Twice]
Our fields ferocious hirelings dare,
And savage howlings rend the sky,
They come! and from your arms they tear
The pratling babes, who bleeding, die!
Arm, Citizens, to arms!
Arrange the warlike band;
March on, march on,
With blood impure,
T'imbrue your thirsty land!
We march, we march,
With blood impure,
T'imbrue our thirsty land!
What would this herd of conjor'd kings,
Vile slaves, and traitors, ghastly throng!
For whom the chain ignoble brings
The bondage we have suffered long?
[Twice]
In vengeance, French, let every breast
With swelling transport ceaseless burn,
Fair freedom teaches to detest
The slavery they bid return.
To arms, &c.
[Page 26]
What! would these proud outlandish foes
Be legislators in our land?
What! would this hireling crounds oppose
And lay in dust our warlike band?
[Twice]
Great God! shall then th'enflaving rod
Subject us to our former state?
Shall a vile despot's sovereign nod
Decide at will our abject fate?
To arms, &c.
Our warriors now the glory share,
By them you fall, by them succeed;
Spare, then, the wretched victims, spare!
We arm to die, or make you bleed.
[Twice]
But, lo! these sanguinary lords
Joyous exert their savege pow'r;
These bloody tyrants lift their swords,
And their own countries peace devour.
To arms, &c.
Tremble, proud tyrants, traitors blush,
Quick, quick resign the victor's plume,
The arm of justice, rais'd to crush,
Descends, and you must meet your doom.
[Twice.
All, all are soldiers now in France,
And should
we fall, new legions rise,
Our youth to join the fight advance,
And learn all danger to despise.
To arms, &c.
[Page 27]
CHILDREN.
With joy we will assume the trust
When down death's hill our fathers roll,
Then shall we find their sacred dust
Will animate the aspiring soul. [
Twice]
Less zealous to survive our sires
Than share the death we all contemn,
Their sons a glorious pride inspires
T'avenge their wrongs or follow them.
To arms, &c.
Oh! "sacred love of country" aid
Our vengeful arms, our footsteps guide,
And Liberty! celestial maid,
Adhere to thy defender's side, [
Twice.]
When victory our tents shall leave,
To spread the joyous tidings round,
Thy triumph and our fame shall give
Our enemies their lasting wound.
To arms, &c.
Our native soil and social love,
Together limit our desires,
Then ever lei our souls improve
The glow which virtue's wish inspires.
twice
By union shall our power's increase,
Our tyrant foes shall hug their chain;
[Page 28] And then the happy French shall cease
To chaunt the harsh incongruous strain.
To arms, &c.
Frenchmen, too long, the sport of factions,
This day should quench fell discord's flame:
Americans, whose virtuous actions
Excel the proudest nation's claim,
Let us for ever be united,
Conspiring kings our wrath shall dread,
Our thunders bursting on their head,
Shall hurl them from their thrones affrighted,
To arms, &c.
☞ The translation of the fourth and fifth verses of the Children's hymn, could not possibly be procured.
SONG XVIII. HYMNE DES MARSEILLOIS
ALLONS, enfans de la patrie,
Le jour de gloire est arrivé,
Contre nous de la tyrannie
L'étendart sanglant est levé.
Bis.
Entendez vous dans les campagnes
[Page 29] Mugir ces feroces soldats,
Ils viennent josques dans vos bras,
Egorger vos fils, vos campagnes.
Aux armes, citoyens!
Formez vos battaillons!
Marchez! Marchez!
Qu'un sang impur abreuve vos sillons.
Marchons! marchons!
Qu'un sang impur abreuve nos sillons.
Que veut cette horde d'esclaves?
De traitres, de rois conjurés,
Pour qui ces ignobles entraves,
Ces fers des long-tems préparés?
Bis.
Français, pour nous—ah quel outrage!
Quel transport il doit exciter!
C'est nous qu'on ose menacer
De rendre a'lantique esclavage.
Aux armes, &c.
Quoi! des cohortes étrangeres,
Feraient la loi dans nos foyers!
Quoi! ces phalanges mercenaires
Terrasseraient nos fiers guerrires!
Bis.
Grand Dieu! par des mains enchainées
Nos fronts sous le joug se ploiraient
De vis despotes deviendraient
Les Maitres de nos destinées?
Aux armes, &c.
[Page 30]
Francais, en guerriers magnanimes,
Portez ou retenez vos coups:
Epargnez ces tristes victimes,
A regret s'armant contre vous.
Bis.
Mais ces despotes sanguinaires,
Mas lés complices de Bouillé,
Tous ces tigres qui sans pitié
Déchirent le sein de leur mere!
Aux armes, &c.
Tremblez! tyrants, et vous perfides,
L'opprobre de tous les parties!
Tremblez, vos projets, parricides,
Vont enfin recevoir leur prix.
Bis.
Tout est soldats pour vous combattre;
Sils tombent nos jeunes heros,
La France en produet de nouveaux
Contre vous tout oréts à se battre.
Aux armes, &c.
LES ENFANS.
Nous entrerons dans la carriére
Quand nos ainés n'y seront plus.
Nous y trouverons leur poussiere
Et l'exemple de leurs vertus.
Bis.
Bien moins jaloux de leur survivre,
Que de portager leur cercueil,
[Page 31] Nous aurons le sublime orgueil
De les venger ou de les suivre.
Aux arms, &c.
Amour sacrè dela patrie!
Conduis soutiens nos bras vengeurs;
Liberté! liberté! chérie
Comba
[...]s avec tes dèfenseurs.
Bis.
Sous nos drapeaux que la victoire
Accoure á tes màles accens!
Que tes ennemis expirants
Voient ton triomphe et notre glore!
Aux armes, &c.
Que l'amitié, que la patrie,
Fassent l'object de tous nos voeux!
Ayons toujours l'ame nourie
Des feux qu'ils inspirent tous deux.
Bis.
Soyons unis tout est possible,
Nos vils ennemis tomberont,
Alors les Français cesseront
De chanter ce refrain tarrible.
Aux arms, &c.
Tous les soutiens de la patrie
Ne sont pas dans les battaillons;
Les marins au prix de leur vie,
Vont punir a coups de canons.
Bis.
Les enemis des droits de l'homme,
Et ces suppots d'un vieux tyran,
[Page 32] Qui croit sur le vaste ocean
Abaisser l'emule de Rome—
Allons! bons matelots!
Affrontons tous les flots.
Voguons!
Voguons!
Nons soutiendrons l'honneur du pavillon!
Dignes enfans de la victoire,
Braves marins, accoutez tous.
La rivale de notre gloire,
L'Angleterre arme contre nous.
Bis.
Aux vils ennemis de la France.
Làchement elle vient s'unir;
Mais nous la ferons repentir—
D'avoir bravé notre vengeance—
Allons, bons matelots,
Affrontons tous les flots;
Jurons,
Jurons,
De soutenir l'honneur du pavillon.
Français, que ces jours memorables
Soient le sçeau de notre union!
Amériquains incomparables
O vertueuse nation!
Bis.
Faisons les sermens inviolables,
De rester a jamais unis,
Que, tous les tyrans reunis
Tombent sous nos coups redoubtables.
Aux armes. &c.
[Page 33]
SONG XVIII CA IRA.
AH! ca ira, ca ira, ca ira,
Le peuple, en ce jour sans cessee repete ah!
Ah! ca ira, ca ira, ca ira,
Malgre mutins tout reussira.
Nous enemis consus en restent la
Et nous allons chanter Allelugah,
Ah! ca ira, ca ira, ca ira,
Quand Boileau jadi
[...] du clerge, par la,
Comme un prophete il a predit cela,
En chantant ma chan sonnette avec plaisir on dira.
Ah! ca ira, ca ira, ca ira,
Malgre mutins tout reussira
Ah! ca ira, ca ira, ca ira.
TTANSLATION.
Ah! 'twill do, 'twill do, 'twill do!
The people shall for e'er repeat,
Ah! 'twill do, 'twill do, 'twill do,
In spite of traitors we'll succeed.
Our enemies confused shall stand,
Whilst Hallelugah chants our band!
Ah! 'twill do 'twill do, 'twill do!
In days of yore so sung Boileau,
His prophecies of Gallis church,
With pleasure shall my strain repeat,
[Page 34] Ah! 'twill do, 'twill do, 'twill do.
In spite of traitors we'll succeed.
Ah! 'twill do, 'twill do, 'twill do.
SONG XIX. LA CARMAGNOLLE.
Madame Veto avait promis,
bis.
De faire ègorger tour Paris:
bis.
Mais son coup a manqué,
Grace á nos canonniers;
Dansons la carmagnole,
Vive le son,
bis
Dansons la carmagnole,
Vive le son du canon.
Monsieur Veto avait promis,
bis.
[...]etre sidéle à sa patrie;
bis.
Mais il y a manqué,
Je faisons plus quartier;
Dansons, &c.
Antoinette avait résolu,
bis.
[...]
[...]ous faire tomber for cul;
bis.
[...] coup est manqué,
Ello
[...] le nez cassé,
Dansons, &c.
[Page 35]
Son mari se croyant vainquer,
bis
Connaissair peu notre valeur:
bis
Va, Louis, gros paour,
Du temple dans la tour.
Dansons, &c.
Les Suisses avaient tous promis,
bis
Qu'ils feraient feu sur nos amis;
bis
Mais comme ils ont sauté,
Comme ils ont tous dansé;
Chantons notre victoire;
Vive la son, &c.
Quand Antoinette vit la tour,
bis
Elle voulut faire demi tour,
bis
Elle avait mal au coeur
De se voir sans honneur.
Dansons, &c.
Lorsque Louis vit fossover,
bis
A ceux qu'il voyait travailler
bis
Il disait que pour peu
Il était dans ce lieu.
Dansons, &c.
Le patriote a pour amis,
Tous les bonnes gens de pays
Mais ils so sautiendront,
Tons au son des canons.
Dandsons, &c.
[Page 36]
L'aristocrate a pour amis,
bis
Tous les royalistes à Paris;
bis
Ils vous les soutiendront
Tous comme des vrais poltrons.
Dansons, &c.
La Gendarmerie avait promis,
bis
Qu'elle souriendrat la patrie,
bis
Mais ils n'ont pas manqué,
An son du canonnier,
Chantons, &c.
Amis, restons toujours unis
bis
Ne craignos pas nos enemis,
bis
S'ils viennent attaquer,
Nous les ferons sauter.
Chantons, &c.
Oui, je suis sans culotte,
[...]
En de pit des amis da roi;
Vivent les Marseillois,
Les Bretons & nos lois.
Dansons, &c.
Oui, nous nous souvien
[...]
[...] toujou.
bis
Les sans culottes des faux
[...],
bis
[...]eur santé buvons,
[...] ces bons lurons.
bis
Dansons, &c.
END.