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1752–1832

RIVINGTON'S REFLECTIONS

Philip Morin Freneau

The more I reflect, the more plain it appears, If I stay, I must stay at the risque of my ears, I have so be-peppered the foes of our throne, Be-rebelled, be-deviled, and told them their own,

That if we give up to these rebels at last, ‘ Tis a chance if my ears will atone for the past. ‘ Tis always the best to provide for the worst — So evacuation I'll mention the first:

If Carleton should sail for our dear native shore ( As Clinton, Cornwallis, and Howe did before ) And take off the soldiers that serve for our guard, ( A step that the Tories would think rather hard )

Yet still I surmise, for aught I can see, No Congress or Senates would meddle with me. For what have I done, when we come to consider, But sold my commodities to the best bidder?

If I offered to lie for the sake of a post, Was I to be blamed if the king offered most? The King's Royal Printer!— Five hundred a year! Between you and me,‘ twas a handsome affair:

Who would not for that give matters a stretch, And lie back and forward, and carry and fetch, May have some pretensions to honour and fame — But what are they both but the sound of a name,

Mere words to deceive us, as I have found long since, Live on them a week, and you'll find them but nonsense. The late news from Charleston my mind has perplext, If that is abandoned,— I know what goes next:

This city of York is a place of great note, And that we should hold it I now give my vote; But what are our votes against Shelburne'sdecrees? These people at helm steer us just where they please,

So often they've had us all hands on the brink, They'll steer us at last to the devil, I think: And though in the danger themselves have a share, It will do us small good that they also go there.

It is true that the Tories, their children, and wives Have offered to stay at the risque of their lives, And gain to themselves an immortal renown By all turning soldiers, and keeping the town:

Whoe'er was the Tory that struck out the plan, In my humble conceit, was a very good man; But our words on this subject need be very few — Already I see that it never will do:

For, suppose a few ships should be left us by Britain, With Tories to man them, and other things fitting, In truth we should be in a very fine box, As well they might guard us with ships on the stocks,

And when I beheld them aboard and afloat, I am sure I should think of the bear in the boat. On the faith of a printer, things look very black — And what shall we do, alas! and alack!

Shall we quit our young princes and full blooded peers, And bow down to viscounts and French chevaliers? Perhaps you may say, “As the very last shift “We'll go to New-Scotland, and take the king's gift.”

Good folks, do your will — but I vow and I swear, I'll be boil'd into soup before I'll live there: Is it thus that our monarch his subjects degrades?— Let him go and be damned, with his axes and spades,

Of all the vile countries that ever were known In the frigid, or torrid, or temperate zone, ( From accounts that I've had ) there is not such another; It neither belongs to this world or the other:

A favor they think to send us there gratis To sing like the Jews at the river Euphrates, And, after surmounting the rage of the billows, Hang ourselves up at last with our harps on the willows;

Ere I sail for that shore, may I take my last nap — Why, it gives me the palsy to look on its map! And he that goes there ( though I mean to be civil ) May fairly be said to have gone to the devil.

Shall I push for Old England, and whine at the throne? Indeed! they have Jemmies enough of their own! Besides, such a name I have got from my trade, They would think I was lying, whatever I said;

Thus scheme as I will, or contrive as I may, Continual difficulties rise in the way: In short, if they let me remain in this realm, What is it to Jemmy who stands at the helm?

I'll petition the rebels ( if York is forsaken ) For a place in their Zion which ne'er shall be shaken I am sure they'll be clever: it seems their whole study: They hung not young Asgill for old captain Huddy,

And it must be a truth that admits no denying, If they spare us for Murder they'll spare us for Lying.

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RIVINGTON'S REFLECTIONS · Philip Morin Freneau · Poetry Cove