The New Hampshire Gazette And General Advertiser

That your honours petitioner's, tories by trade.
From the first of the war have lent Britain
Their aid,
And done all they could both in country and town,
In support of the king and the rights of the crown;
But now to their grief and confusion they find
'Who the devil may take them who are farthest behind.'
In the rear of all rascals they still have been placed,
And halter and gibbets full often have faced,
Have been in the midst of distress and doubt,
Whene'er they came in or whene'er they went out;
Have supported the king and defended his church,
And now in the end must be left in the lurch.
Though often, too often, his arms were disgraced,
We still were in hopes he would conquer at last,
And restore us again to our sweethearts and wives,
The pride of our hearts and the joy of our lives;
But he promised too fair and we trusted too much,
And who could have looked for a war with the Dutch?
Our board broken up and discharged from our stations,
Sir Guy, it is cruel to cut off our rations;
Of a project like that whoe'er was the mover,
It is, we must tell you, a cursed manoeuvre,
A plan to destroy us—the basest of tricks,
To get us away to the shallows of Styx.
If a peace be intended, as people surmise,
(Though we hope from our souls it is nothing but lies)
Inform us at once what we have to expect,
Nor treat us as usual with surly neglect;
Or else by the mass and the will of the Fates,
Will go to the rebels—and get our estates.
SIR GUY ANSWER.

We have reason to think there will soon be a
peace,
And that war with the rebels will certainly cease;
But, be that as it will, I would have you to know
That as matters are changing we may soon change too.
In short I would say, (since I have it at heart)
Though the war should continue, yet we may depart.
Four offers in season I therefore propose.
(As much as I can do in reason God knows)
In which, though there be not too plentiful carving.
There still is sufficient to keep you from starving.
And, first of the first, it would mightily charm me
To see you, my children, enlist in the army,
Or enter the navy and get for your pay
A farthing an hour, which is sixpence per day.
There's Hector M'Lean and Arthur O'Gregor
And Donald M'Donald shall rule you with vigor:
If these do not suit you, then take to your new plan,
Make peace with the rebels (that is, if you can)
Their rank and distinction perhaps you may find
And rise into office fit to your mind—
But if still you object—to be all on a level,
Burn up your red coats and go off to the Devil.