Poor Esau his birthright gave up for a bribe, Americans scorn th' mean soul-selling tribe; Beyond life our freedom we chuse to possess, Which thro' life we'll defend, and abjure a broad S. "Hearts of Oak are we still, and we're sons of those men Who fear not the ocean, brave roarings of cannon, To stop all oppression, again and again." On our brow while we laurel-crown'd Liberty wear, What Englishmen ought we Americans dare; Though tempests and terrors around us we see, Bribes nor fears can prevail o'er the hearts that are free. "Hearts of Oak," etc. With Loyalty, Liberty let us entwine, Our blood shall for both flow as free as our wine; Let us set an example, what all men should be, And a Toast give the World, "Here's to those dare be free." "Hearts of Oak," etc. In 1766 William Pitt, perhaps the most enlightened friend America had in England, became Prime Minister, and adopted toward the colonies a policy so conciliatory that it occasioned much disgust in England--as is evident from the following verses which appeared originally in the _Gentleman's Magazine_. THE WORLD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN OR, THE OLD WOMAN TAUGHT WISDOM [1767] Goody Bull and her daughter together fell out, Both squabbled, and wrangled, and made a ---- rout, But the cause of the quarrel remains to be told, Then lend both your ears, and a tale I'll unfold. The old lady, it seems, took a freak in her head, That her daughter, grown woman, might earn her own bread: Self-applauding her scheme, she was ready to dance; But we're often too sanguine in what we advance. For mark the event; thus by fortune we're crossed, Nor should people reckon without their good host; The daughter was sulky, and wouldn't come to, And pray, what in this case could the old woman do? In vain did the matron hold forth in the cause, That the young one was able; her duty, the laws; Ingratitude vile, disobedience far worse; But she might e'en as well sung psalms to a horse. Young, froward, and sullen, and vain of her beauty, She tartly replied, that she knew well her duty, That other folks' children were kept by their friends, And that some folks loved people but for their own ends. "Zounds, neighbor!" quoth Pitt, "what the devil's the matter? A man cannot rest in his house for your clatter;" "Alas!" cries the daughter, "here's dainty fine work, The old woman grown harder than Jew or than Turk." "She be ----," says the farmer, and to her he goes, First roars in her ears, then tweaks her old nose, "Hallo, Goody, what ails you? Wake! woman, I say; I am come to make peace, in this desperate fray. "Adzooks, ope thine eyes, what a pother is here! You've no right to compel her, you have not, I swear; Be ruled by your friends, kneel down and ask pardon, You'd be sorry, I'm sure, should she walk Covent Garden."