Let Albions Sons for ever sing,
Of famous Wilkes and Liberty,
And whilst we Quarrel France may skim,
Along the Mediterranean sea,
And steer their Course to Corsica,
Their Shipping just got in repair,
Whilst we can hear nothing each Day,
But Scotland rides the British Mare.

She goes her paces very well,
At walking canting or a trot,
And it is thought would gallop still,
Beneath the weight of bonny Scot,
But lo the loon is feeble grown,
And cannot touch his former dance,
So leaves his Moggy nere to moan,
And journies to the South of France.

But Sawney’s made it worth his while,
In jumping round from Place to Place,
Oh, how his Dupees and Creatures smile,
’Cause Englishmen are in disgrace,
But things may turn about in time,
And Arbitrary have an End,
In less than two Years Wilkes may shine,
Again in his native Kingdom’s Friend.

Then how the Scottish we’ll vex,
When Wilkes is from a prison free,
While we rejoice of Middlesex,
In a Member of Fidelity,
Wilkes is determin’d to be free,
No Place or Pension shall him Buy,
But a private Gentleman he’ll be,
And in your Service Life and Die.