  Published May 10th, 1794. Some wags, taking advantage of the alarm of invasion in March, 1794, sent two letters, with the counterfeit signatures of two magistrates in Northumberland, to the Mayor of Newcastle, stating, that a party of French had landed on the coast, near Bambrough; this occasioned some bustle in Newcastle; 270l. reward was afterward offered in vain for the discovery of the writers. “Now fill a bumper to the brim, “And drink to Gotham’s mayor; “And when again he hears such news, “May Fa——berg be there.” Thus lately in a loyal song, Sung some right loyal bard; And righteous too, no doubt was he, For lo! his prayer was heard. News, direful news from Bambro’ came, The French were landed there; A letter, written with all speed, Was sent to Gotham’s mayor. “The crews of three French ships of war, Have landed in our coast, Send for Lord F——berg,” quoth he, “Or we shall all be lost. “Our bullocks they have ta’en away, Our cows and sheep besides.” “O woe betide them,” says our mayor, “They’ll raise the price of HIDES.” “Fear not, fear not,” says F——berg, Who now before him stood, “To guard you I will spend my last, Last drop of noble blood!” On this our mayor began to hold Erect his drooping head; “I will not,” quoth Lord F——berg, “This night lay down my head. “To guard-house I will hie with speed, And watch ’till morn appear; Each Gothamite may soundly sleep, No cause have they to fear.” “Meantime” says Gotham’s mayor, “I will In haste, a letter write To George our king, some ships to send, To intercept their flight.” To George our king the tidings came, At London where he lay; “What! cattle, cattle, sheep indeed!— To Windsor haste away; “Lock up my pretty little sheep, My pigs and geese likewise; No bloody Frenchman shall destroy What I so dearly prize. “Then run tell Billy Pitt to come, And bring his brother here; But first call Tom the butler up, To get me some small beer. “How happens Chat—m, that no ships You have sent to the North? Not one, I’m told, is to be seen From Thames unto the Forth.” “So please you,” bowing low, says John, “I would have sent a few, But that I thought you’d want them here Against the next REVIEW.” “That’s right, that’s right,” reply’d our king, “One ship I cannot spare: And if the French do get their sheep, Why—let them take more care. “Example let them take by me, And they’ll receive no harm; Shut them all up as I have done, Upon my Windsor farm.” So spake our gracious lord, And so I end my song; May heaven from rots preserve his sheep, And may his life be long! |
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