SHALL men who drudge from morn ‘till night
Pretend to talk of wrong and right?
No, no, the sweat which toil produces,
Exhausts the intellectual juices,
And leaves the brain, that fine machine,
Unfit for aught, save what is mean.
Rouse then, Oh rouse! and crush these fellows,
Who are in Reason’s cause so zealous,
Who dare to tell the Swinish rabble,
That all in Politics should dabble;
That every tattered greasy rouge
Who quash a pot, or wears a brogue,
Should vote for Senators, and be,
Like men of birth and fortune free.
But soon I trust these noisy knaves
Will be what Nature meant them – Slaves.
OF Generals don’t tell me, of YORK, and such boys;
Nor of HOWE – tho’ I mean not their laurels to taint;
The General I’m sure that will make the most noise,
If the war should go on – is – GENERAL COMPLAINT.
Printed in the Sheffield Register No. 309, 3 May 1793 (currently held in Sheffield University Library Special Collections)