Benjamin Franklin
(1706 - 1790)

The Mother Country
c. 1765

A SONG

We have an old Mother that peevish is grown,
She snubs us like Children that scarce walk alone;
She forgets we're grown up and have Sense of our own;
Which nobody can deny, deny, Which no body can deny.

If we don't obey Orders, whatever the Case;
She frowns, and she chides, and she loses all Patience,
and sometimes she hits us a Slap in the Face,
Which nobody can deny, &c.;

Her Orders so odd are, we often suspect
That Age has impaired her sound Intellect:
But still an old Mother should have due Respect,
Which nobody can deny, &c.;

Let's bear with her Humours as well as we can:
But why should we bear the Abuse of her Man?
When Servants make Mischief, they earn the Rattan,
Which nobody should deny, &c.;

Know too, ye bad Neighbours,
who aim to divide The Sons from the Mother,
that still she's our Pride;
And if ye attack her we're all of her side,
Which nobody can deny, &c.;

We'll join in her Lawsuits, to baffle all those,
Who, to get what she has, will be often her Foes:
For we know it must all be our own, when she goes,
Which nobody can deny, deny, Which nobody can deny.