each death-doing dog who dares venture his neck,
Come, follow the hero who goes to Quebec,
Jump aboard of the transport, and loose every sail,
Pay your debts at the tavern by giving leg-bail.
And ye that love fighting, shall soon have enough,
Wolfe commands us, boys; we shall give them Hot Stuff!
the river St. Lawrence, our troops shall advance,
To the Grenadier's March, we will teach them to dance.
Cape Breton, we've taken, and next we will try,
At their capitol, to give them, another black eye.
Vaudreuil, 'tis in vain, you pretend to look gruff,
Those are coming who know how to give you Hot Stuff!
powder in his periwig, and snuff in his nose,
Monsieur will run down, our descent to oppose.
And the Indians will come, but our Light Infantry,
Will soon oblige them to take to a tree.
From such rascals as these, shall we fear a rebuff?
Advance, Grenadiers! And let fly your Hot Stuff!
the Forty-Seventh Regiment is dashing ashore,
While bullets are whistling, and cannons do roar,
Say Montcalm, "Those are Shirley's - I know their lapels."
"You lie!" says Ned Botwood, "We are with Lascelles."
Though our clothing has changed, yet we scorn the powder
puff, So at you! Ye bastards! Here's give you Hot Stuff!
Monckton and Townshend, those brave Brigadiers,
I think we shall soon have the town about their ears.
And when we have done with the mortars and the guns,
If you please, Madame Abbess, a word with your nuns.
Each soldier shall enter the convent in buff,
And then, never fear, we shall give them Hot Stuff!