A New Song.

                 To an old Tune.

HEY! the devil the devil, hey ! the devil the d—
A nation ſo happy as Britian, the blind wou'd be glad
to ſee,
Tor here we have taxes to vex us, ſquander'd on penſions
and places,
There we ſit quiet like aſſes, a growling and making wry faces.

                                  CHORUS.

Hey! myBilly, my Billy, oh! my Billy, my deary,
Such a fine boy as thee is neither far nor neary.

Oh! how glorious and great, a king in contempt of his people
The head of the church and the ſtate, nay, even the head
of the ſteeple !
Here we run out of our wits, there we make buttons and
boxes.
Now we ſell ſkim'd milk and pigs, then we hunt down the
deer and the foxes,
                                             Hey! my Billy, &c.

Oh! what a cabinet, council, a pattern to every nation,
They ſhold reſerve them a patent, for framing a proclama-
For here we proclaim and deſame Tom Paine in manner
ſurprizing!
And then we find out to our ſhame, proclaimings the beſt
advertiſing,
                                            Hey! my Billy, &c.

On my Billy ! my Billy, oh ! my Billy, my deary,
Such a ſweet boy' as thee, there's neither far nor neary;
Here you oppreſs and deride, there you load us like aſſes,
Then an' election you bribe, and then you get drunk at
Dundas s.
                                             Hey! my Billy, &ct

Silence, ye imoudent rebels, who rave about revolution,
Traitors how dare you aſperſe, our wonderful conſtitution ?
Mother Aſhurſt, will ſwear and declare, it leaves all the
world far beheind it,
What a pity, the knowing old girl has not wiſper'd us where
we may find it.
                                            Hey ! my Billy, &c.

Oh? what a ſweet city is London, Lord what beauties adorn
her,
A deſpot In every ſtreet, and a baſtile in every corner :
Here we lock up for ever ſo clever, good patriots to keep
them all quiet,
And then we call in the dragoous, to cut all their throats s
if they riot.
                                            Hey! my Billy, &c.

Oh! how impartial our court, oh! how good folkes are
regarded,
To merit a rope or an axe, is the way to get rewarded,
For here we give places and penſions, to thoſe that can vote
to deſerve them,
And thoſe that have bled for their country, we lock up in
jails till we ſtarve them.
                                            Hey ! my Billy, &c.

Oh! how careſs'd are our ſoldiers, lord how ſufficient their
pay!
Zounds! how genteely a man may live upon fivepence a
day!
Here we ſtrip them and whip them, to humour their boy
iſh commanders,
Now to ſhew our great wiſdom, we've ſent them to fight
for the princes in Flankers.
                                             Hey! my Billy, &c.