The New Hampshire Gazette

Let us as a Truth confess
Frederick knows the Art of War
Better than you or I, by far.
His Skill commands success
But with Amazement saw
Your Army pent up in Breslau
affrighted and half dead:
Now, Brother, had it been my case
I should have fairly left the Place.
And to Bohemia fled.
You're right, the Lorrainer replies,
The Case I own is true:
We should have been—perhaps, as wise
Could we have run like you.

Another Translation of this Song
Charles and Soubise were engag'd in debate,
On the loss and disgrace they had suffer'd of late:
Now Prince, says Monsieur, that we both have been
beat,
Ay, and beat to the Devil, the Wonder's not great:
For (what signifies lying) come, zounds! to be free,
This Fred'rick's too knowing for you or for me.
But the strangest of all the strange Things I e'er saw,
Is this damnable bus'ness of yours at Breslau.
How you manag'd it there so confoundedly ill,
Is a matter, I own, that surpasses my skill.
So many battalions put to the rout!
So slaughter'd! so lost! how you bro't this about,
Is what, for my blood, I could never make out.
Ah! the thing had ne'er happen'd, had I but been there,
Why faith, says Lorrain, 'twas a cursed affair;
But safe in Bohemia they'd been ev'ry one,
Had the fellows like yours, but been practis'd to run.