Old Grannua Weal.
Old Gannua she rose in the morning so soon,
She put on her petticoat, apron and gown,
Saying very bad news last night came to me,
They are wronging my children that's over the sea.
Old Grannua set out with her gallant in rage.
And straight way for Dublin it was her first stage;
And as she was prancing it was up Dublin street,
She with lord Cornwall had a chance for to meet.
He says noble Cornwall come tell me in haste.
Have you any good news from the East or the West?
O bad news says Grannua that makes me complain,
They are wronging my children that's o'er the main.
That news is too true, lord Cornwall he said,
They will bring them to slavery soon I'm afraid,
There's lord North and Granville and infamous Bute,
That brought on the Tea Act that's now in dispute.
Old Grannua set out with her grand equipage,
And straightway for London it was her first stage,
198And as she was prancing it was up London street,
Twas there with North, Granville and Bute, she did meet.
You are three villians as I understand,
Who are wronging my children in yon foreign land;
And it is reported and told as a fact,
You are the three villians that made the Tea Act.
You are wrongly informed says these gentlemen
To yield to your slavery we never intend,
That land is our kin's we solemnly say,
And we will make laws and your sons must obey!
You are three arrant liars says Grannua in haste,
'Tis very well known from the East to the West,
My children they ventured their lives over the flood,
And purchased that land with the price of their blood.
They said noble Grannua don't give such a vent,
We'll cool our sons courage and make them repent!
With our great ships of war and our men in the field,
We'll cool your sons courage and make them to yield.
I would not have you think for to frighten my sons,
At Lexington battle they made your men run,
They are men of experience in every degree,
They'll turn your proud ships with a hell-a-malee!
O says noble Grannua give me leave to tell,
Of a battle that was fought, it was nigh Bunker Hill,
Where twelve hundred Britons lay dead on the ground,
And five hundred more have since died of their wounds.
O Grannua do'nt tell us, about Bunker Hill,
For in that battle we gained the field;
You once had a Warren but now he is slain,
You have no more Warren's now over the main.
Well, well, says Grannua, though Warren, is dead,
A Washington lives, and our armies he'll head,
He'll handle your troops as polite as you please,
And pay them their trouble for crossing the seas.
We cannot deny but your Washington's brave,
Then only think of what armies we have,
We'll send over Bigsby old Derby and Graves,
Your sons must submit or we'll make them our slaves.
Well, well, says old Grannua, go on with your cause,
Our sons will never submit to your laws;
200And when they've beat you and drove your troops home,
My sons will be free and make laws of their own.
Too late you will see your desperate crimes,
And mourn and lament to the end of your times,
That ever you sent your troops o'er the flood,
To spill my dear innocent children's blood,
I have millions of sons in America born,
To yield slavery they hold it in scorn
They are men of experience in every respect,
They never will yield to your bloody Tea Act.
Sing wob-a-roo, bob-a-roo, says old Grannua Weal,
The fox is in the trap and he's caught by the tail:
They are men of experience and never will fail
Success to our sons says old Grannua Weal.