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1804.18
Parody [1]
“Mr. Balfour”
The Anti-Gallican (1804), pp. 98-99
Adapted to the times, by Mr. BALFOUR.
Wha wad at Bonaparte's nod,
Gi'e Malta up, an' a' that;
His conscript slaves we laugh to scorn,
An' dare be free for a' that.
For
a' that, an a' that,
Republic
law, an a' that,
In
Britain's vales her bairns find
Mair
freedom far than a' that.
What tho' the Swiss ha'e hunker'd down,
An' kiss'd their looves an' a' that,
Let Dutch an' Don faint at his frown,
A Scot's a Scot for a' that.
For
a' that, an a' that,
His
Hamburg Squibs an' a' that,
John
Bull has breath to bla' a blast
Will
answer him an a' that.
Yon little man, First Consul ca'd,
Frets, fumes, an' raves, an' a' that;
Tho' Frenchmen tremble at his word,
He's Corsican for a' that.
For
a' that, an' a' that,
Reviews,
Levees, an' a' that,
The
freeborn brave o' Britain's isle,
Can
look an' laugh at a' that.
Tho' he can mak' Etrurian kings,
Popes, Cardinals, an a' that,
To rule the sea's aboon his might,
Gude faith he maunna fa' that.
For
a' that and a' that,
Flat
bottom'd boats an a' that,
Our
wooden wa's an' British Tars,
Are
nobler far than a' that.
Yet let us pray to see the day,
When Commerce smiles an a' that;
When War shall cease, an' gentle Peace
Shall beas the gree an a' that.
For
a' that, an a' that,
Tis
comin' yet for a' that,
When
bluidy blades an' broken heads,
Shall
banish'd be an a' that.