The Bogg-Trotters March
Or , King Williams Glorious Conquest over the whole Irish Army.
To an Excellent New Tune, Or, March Boys , March Boys , etc. Licensed according to Order.
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I.
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OLd James with his Rascally Rabble of Rogues,
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he drew up his Army pretending to stand;
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But as they march'd they must trust to their Brogues,
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the Dee'l take the hindmost was his Command:
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He had a Ditty he mumbl'd along,
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it went in the Tune of Lilli borlero ;
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But we will follow them close with a Song
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of March, Boys, march, Boys, Tan ta ra ra ro:
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March Boys, march Boys, merry, merry march, Boys,
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Teague' s but a Mushrom to a Man, Boys,
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See how they fly, how they run, how they dye,
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whilest Conquering William leads us on, Boys.
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II.
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Thus Teague with his Loyalty, Mettle, and Pride,
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Resolves to maintain his Natural Prince;
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Who the Plague blames him so nearly Ally'd,
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in Truth, Religion, Wit, and Sence;
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He quits his Crowns, they Surrender his Towns,
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if he plays the Fool, they all do the same, Sir;
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Lose or win, or get it all again soon;
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thus they play the Factious-Game, Sir,
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Game Sir, Game Sir, Ninny, Ninny, tame Sir;
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see what a Monster they made thee;
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Shave, shave thy Pate, Drown thy Wife, Poyson Kate
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be Chreest and St. Patrick they've all betray'd thee.
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III.
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The Irish Nation was carry'd to Pawn,
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for Money, the Catholick War to maintain;
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As soon as King William a Sword he had drawn,
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his Conquering-Army redeem'd it again;
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Now Monsieur, Begar, he may hang himself,
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they scamper'd and left the whole Kingdom behind 'em,
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But still we will follow the Hect'ring-Elf,
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in France, in France, we hope to find 'em.
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Charge, Boys, Charge Boys, rally, rally, charge Boys,
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like noble Lads with warlike Thunder;
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Pursue them amain, in retreat they are slain,
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their Troops and their Ranks we'll break in sunder.
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IV.
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Loud Cannons did roar, and the Trumpets did sound
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the which Warlike-Musick soon fill'd 'em with fear[,]
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The Devil a Teague of 'em all stood their ground,
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nor likewise the prodigal-Huff, Monsieur;
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For, like nimble Deer, they all took their flight,
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not only the French, but the Catholick-Tory;
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And still in their running they bid us Good-night,
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and thus brave Nassau gained glory:
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Sound Boys, sound Boys, let the Trumpet sound, Boys
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we were resolved they should restore us;
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Towns which we won, whilst the Catholicks run,
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and thus did we Conquer all before us.
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V.
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Poor Teague with a sigh and a sorrowful face,
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with crossing his Breast, to the Saints he did cry,
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In spight of Tyrconnel , his Majesties Grace,
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we're forc'd to the Bogs and the Mountains to fly:
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When none did resist we conquer'd a Dea',
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the greatest part of the Irish Nation;
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But Fait it has prov'd like a slippery Eel,
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we are forc'd to surrender at discretion:
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Nassau, Nassau, with his Valiant Army,
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fought and pursu'd us all together;
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Rather than dye, we did bid them good-bye,
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for our Brogues they were made of running Leather.
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VI.
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Old Jemmy our Master is scamper'd to France,
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and we wou'd have follow'd as fast as we could;
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But ere we cou'd out of the Nation advance,
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like sorrowful Tories we all were fool'd:
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Many that ventur'd to fight were Kill'd,
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but, for my own part, I was fearful to fire:
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Be Chreest in my running I was well skill'd,
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and therefore in time I did retire:
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Charge Boys, charge Boys, still they follow'd, Charge, Boys,
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fearful I was that they wou'd find me;
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But as I run, I did throw down my Gun,
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and never so much as look'd behind me.
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