A Rum Letter to a Rum Duke on a Rum Occasion
by a Rum Fogermun

May it Please You

THE
PEACE-BOTCHERS

A New, Satyrical, Political Medley,
Being a PARODY on the Celebrated one of Machetha's, in the Beggar's Opera.
By a difconsolate ENGLISHMAN.

Off with his Head, so much for B—

Richard III.

AIR I. *Happy Groves.*

O Cruel, cruel, cruel Cafe !
Must we suffer this Difgrace ?

AIR II. Of all the Girls that are so smart.

Since Fortune has, for three Years paft,
Made GEORGE's Arms victorious,
O let us not thofe Laurels blaft,
And make a Peace inglorious.

AIR III. Britons strike home.

Britons be bold,
Exert the Strength
You once did boaft;

AIR IV. *Chevy Chace.*

But, ah! I fear 'tis all in vain,
Proud Sawney rules the Roaft.

AIR V. Old Sir Simon the King.

But let us still unsheath the Sword,
In spite of dull horfe-whip'd R—,
Who wanting more Gold to hoard,
For PEACE is making a Bustle.

AIR VI. Joy to Great Cæfar.

Like a M—y he'll prate,
Of Affairs of the S—.

AIR VII. There was an old Woman, &c.

Let PITT again govern the Helm, my brave Hearts of Oak,
I warrant *Monfieur* will foon find we're not playing the Joke.

AIR VIII. Did you me'er hear of a gallant Sailor.

But poor Britannia's Fame expires,
While her bafe Sons prove Tr—y—rs all,

AIR IX. Their Eyes, their Lips, &c.

Her D—s, her L—ds, her Sq—es,
Corrupted are, and we muft fall.

AIR X. Green Sleeves.

Then fince Old England has Laws in Store,
To punifh the Rich as well as Poor,
For a H—b—t Fair, let's cry Encore,

Upon T—r Hill.

No sooner State-Physicians have found,
The Body has got a Limb unfound,
But they chop it off before it gains Ground,

Upon T—r Hill.

Sold by J. WILLIAMS, next the Mitre Tavern, in Fleet-street, and to be had at all the Bookfellers and Print-Shops, in London and Westminfter. Where may likewife be had, Price Sixpence each, The LAIRD of the BOOT, The COACH OVERTURNED, or the FALL of MORTIMER, The ASSES of GREAT BRITAIN, and WITHIN and WITHOUT.

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