Twas in the year of '93, the French did plant an olive tree,
An emblem of great liberty and patriots danced around it,
The tools of murder near and far, the sons of freedom sought to scar,
But Gallia taught new modes of war, the tocsin it was sounded.

For was not I of telling ye, the French could fight right heartily,
That Carmagnoles would make you flee? But you would never mind me.

In '94 a new campaign the tools of darkness did maintain,
But fame's bright sun soon formed in train and soon their foes confounded,
They gave to Flanders liberty, they dealt their shots so frank and free,
The Dutch and the Austrians home they did flee, and left the Duke surrounded.

On June the first, two fleets at sea did drub each other heartily,
And each side claimed a victory and gloried in the slaughter,
James Vaughn St. Andre was the boy, who fought and saved the French convoy,
John Bull rang all his bells for joy, which caused the French much laughter.

Now see the great Batavian line emancipate with French combine,
May laurels green all London shine and may their sons long wear them,
May every tyrant shake with dread and tremble for his guilty head,
May foolish toys in dust be left and man no longer bear them.

Oh, church and king in close embrace, the burden of the human race,
The people tell you to your face that soon you will repent it,
For kings and tyrants preach and drones, the source of all our heavy groans,
Down from your pulpits and your thrones you will tumble unlamented.

For was not I of telling ye, the French could fight right heartily,
That Carmagnoles would make you flee? But you would never mind me.