Plate I

With lantern jaws and croaking gut,
See how the half-starved Frenchmen strut
And call us English dogs.
But soon we'll teach these bragging foes
That beef and beer give heavier blows
Than soup and roasted frogs.

The priests, inflamed with righteous hopes,
Prepare their axes, wheels and ropes,
To bend the stiff-necked sinner.
But should they sink in coming over,
Old Nick may fish 'twixt France and Dover,
And catch a glorious dinner.

Plate II

See John the soldier, Jack the tar,
With sword and pistol armed for war,
Should Monsieur dare come here.
The hungry slaves have smelt our food,
They long to taste our flesh and blood,
Old England's beef and beer.

Britons to arms and let 'em come!
Be you but Britons still, strike home,
And lion-like attack 'em.
No power can stand the deadly stroke
That's given from hands and hearts of oak,
With liberty to back 'em.