AIR -- A-begging we will go

I am a turnip ho-er, as good as ever ho'd
I have hoed from my Cradle, and reap'd where I ne'er sow'd

And a Ho-ing we will go, &c
For my turnips, I must hoe.

At Brunswick and Hanover, I learn'd the Ho-ing trade
From thence I came to England, where a strange Hoe I have made
I've pillag'd town and country round and no man durst say no,
I've lop'd off heads, like Turnip-tops, made England cry, High! Ho!

A turnip once, we read was, a present for a prince
And all the German princes have, ho'd turnips ever since

Let trumpets cheer soldier, and fiddles charm the beau
But sure 'tis much more princely, to cry Turnips, Turnips, Ho!

If Britons will be Britons still, and horny heads affront,
I'll carry home both head and horns, and hoe where I was wont

To Hannover, I'll go, I'll go, and there I'll mery be;
With a good in my right hand, and Munster on my knee

Come on, my Turks and Germans, pack up pack up and go
Let James take his Scepter, So I can have my Hoe

* * *

Of all Roots of Hanover, the turnip is the best
'Tis his saliad when 'tis raw, and his sweetmeat when 'tis drest

Then a hoeing he may go, &c
And his turnips, he may Hoe

A potatoe to Dear Foy, a nd a leek to Taffy give
But to our Friend Hanover, a turnip while you live

No root so fit for barren Hanover can be found
For the Turnip will grow best when 'tis sow'n in poorest ground

But if it be Transplanted, 'twill shortly have an End
And the higher still it grows it must the sooner bend

These turnips have a king if we may credit fame
His sceptre is his hoe, and George is his name

The turnip ne'er should swell like the turban of a turk
For 'tis best when 'tis no greater than the white rose of York!

May the turnip make a season for a better plant to grow
Lest the Hanover root prove, the root of all our woe


[The Turnip Song, A GEORGICK. Attack on George, I, king of Great Britain, 1660-1727