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Jonathan Swift - Peace And Dunkirk
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Spite of Dutch friends and English foes,
Poor Britain shall have peace at last:
Holland got towns, and we got blows;
  But Dunkirk`s ours, we`ll hold it fast.
    We have got it in a string,
    And the Whigs may all go swing,
For among good friends I love to be plain;
    All their false deluded hopes
    Will, or ought to end in ropes;
"But the Queen shall enjoy her own again."


Sunderland`s run out of his wits,
  And Dismal double Dismal looks;
Wharton can only swear by fits,
  And strutting Hal is off the hooks;
    Old Godolphin, full of spleen,
    Made false moves, and lost his Queen:
Harry look`d fierce, and shook his ragged mane:
    But a Prince of high renown
    Swore he`d rather lose a crown,
"Than the Queen should enjoy her own again."

Our merchant-ships may cut the line,
  And not be snapt by privateers.
And commoners who love good wine
  Will drink it now as well as peers:
    Landed men shall have their rent,
    Yet our stocks rise cent, per cent.
The Dutch from hence shall no more millions drain:
    We`ll bring on us no more debts,
    Nor with bankrupts fill gazettes;
"And the Queen shall enjoy her own again."

The towns we took ne`er did us good:
  What signified the French to beat?
We spent our money and our blood,
  To make the Dutchmen proud and great:
    But the Lord of Oxford swears,
    Dunkirk never shall be theirs.
The Dutch-hearted Whigs may rail and complain;
    But true Englishmen may fill
    A good health to General Hill:
"For the Queen now enjoys her own again."
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