The Widdows Lamentation for the Loss of her Husband in America. No. 22.—
All true hearted Britons that pasing along—
I would have you draw near and attend to my song—
O what terrible news do we hear every day—
Of the lives that are lost in North America—
’Tis enough for to pierce a heart of a stone—
To hear the poor widdow and Children to mourn—
When our armies they arrive on America’s Ground—
What cutting and slashing and blood runing down—
The Son slays the Father or the Father the son—
While the blood all in streams down the furrows To run
And never a man that’s willing to yield—
Till one or the other lies dead in the field—
Many thousand brave men have already been slain—
Left their wives and their Children in grief to complain—
While our Enemies all around us advantages take—
Which causes Britannias poor heart for to ake—
To think that her Children is slain every day—
And all sorts of business begins to decay—
When they once were united we never did fear
The threats of proud Spain nor lofty Monsiear
They never was able against us to stand—
We always could beat them by sea or by land—
But now our armies get weak every day—
Pray God put a stop to this terrible fray—
What a shocking affair so much blood their should spill
While Sawney1 is scheaming his Coffer to fill—
O Heaven be kind and bring things about
And send master Sawney be put to the rout—
And let him gon back to the Highlands away
And all things be settled in North-America
So now to conclude these few line I have pen’d
Let us pray that these troubles be brought to an end
For there’s many poor Woman that’s left in distress
And many poor Child that’s left Fatherless
Who are over-whelmed with sorrow and grief—
Pray God be their relief comfort and send them relief
Forton Prison, August 1st 1778—