George and Britain Save (1825, Stirling)/The Plowman's Ditty

by Anonymous

For other versions of this work, see The Plowman's Ditty.

THE PLOWMAN'S DITTY.

Because I'm but poor,
And slendor my store,
That I've nothing to lose is the cry;
Let who will declare it,
I vow I can't bear it,
I give all such praters the lie.

Tho' my house is but small,
Yet to have none at all,
Would sure be a greater distress, Sir,
Shall my garden, so sweet,
And my orchard, so neat,
Be the prize of a foreign oppressor?

On Saturday's night,
'Tis still my delight,
With my wages to run home the faster,
But if Frenchmen rule here,
I may look far and near,
But I never shall find a Pay-master.

I've a dear little wife,
Whom I love as my life,
To lose her I should not much like,
And it would make me run wild,
To see my sweet child,
With it's head on the point of a pike.

I've my Church too to save,
And will go to my grave
In defence of a Church that's the best;
I've my King, too, God bless him,
Let no one oppress him
For none has he ever opprest.

British Laws for my guard,
My cottage is barr'd;
'Tis safe in the light or the dark,
If the 'Squire shou'd oppress,
I get instant redress,
My Orchard's as safe as his Park.

My Cot is my Throne,
What I have is my own,
And what is my own I will keep,
Should Boni come now,
'Tis true I may plow,
But I'm sure that I never shall reap.

Now do but reflect
What I have to protect;
Then doubt if to fight I shall choose,
King, Church, Babes and Wife,
Laws, Liberty, Life,
Now tell me I have nothing to lose.

Then I'll beat my ploughshare
To a sword or a spear,
And rush on those desperate men:
Like a lion I'll fight;
That my spear, now so bright,
May soon turn to a ploughshare again!

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