THE Mock EXPEDITION OR, THE Women in BREECHES. A New BALLAD.  

A New Method of War, an improvement no doubt,  
Our Generals of late have so wisely found out;  
To conquer our Foes is to put them in Fright,  
For by this if they fly, there's no occasion to fight,  
Derry down, etc.   

Our late Expedition this fully implies,  
The best waging of War, is the saving of Lives;  
An old Woman or two, that were frightened since dead,  
Or else to their Honour no Blood there was shed.   

Whether English, or French, no great study 'twill cost,  
To determine it who was frightened the most;  
Have perhaps this Excuse for not landing courag'ous,  
As Pannicks are catching they might think them contag'ous.   

For not landing, besides other Reasons, excuse 'em,  
(Would the World but consider, they would not abuse 'em)  
Were told, by Report, they'd be by Water surrounded,  
And landmen, by nature, don't like to be drowned.   

So quicksighted by night, saw it rashness to land,  
But more clearly convinced when the day was at hand  
There's many do say, if we credit their speeches,  
That women's red petticoats they took for men's breeches.   

If their courage going out was but tardy and slack,  
They seemed not to want it at returning all back:  
Tho' this mystery so dark an odd thought may enlighten,  
Cocks crowing, 'tis said, will lions much frighten.   

To call it an action on each side's not right;  
We may call it much better a fright than a fight:  
Of our land force one thing we may certainly say,  
The feats they performed was next running away.   

Well knowing what dangers attend on the brave,  
And that glory, that farce, but leads to the grave;  
Not forgetting the maxim to take their plea,  
That a prudent retreat is oft winning the day.   

Our commanders some blunder must surely have made  
And made a mistake in the choice of their trade·  
A service that's softer may please them much more,  
Not so fitted for Mars as for Venus' Core.   

The winds as in anger against them long blew,  
As if but prophetic of what they would do:  
Such an ominous hint if they would but have read it,  
Might have saved much Expense, and the Nation its credit.   

The genius of Britons had for fight a passion,  
More civilised now 'tis grown quite out of fashion.  
Fine clothes, smock looks, and the care of the ladies,  
Their heads and their hearts more for this than their trade is.   

Tho' Briton's, 'tis said, were not Mollies of old,  
Were for dealing of blows, and were manly and bold  
And if out-numbered to fear they were strangers,  
No councils of war restrained them from dangers.   

The women, 'tis said, intent to petition,  
That they may go out on the next Expedition:  
If successful in war, and its dangers they dare,  
They expect for the future the Breeches to wear.   

To Petticoats Men, as their shame, be condemned,  
So long, or at least till their mettle they mend:  
The breeches then back they will give them again,  
As by right they are theirs when behaving like men.    

Wapping, Printed for Moll Tarr-Breeches.