_Should foggy Opdam chance to know Our sad and dismal story, The Dutch would scorn so weak a foe And quit their fort at Goree; For what resistance can they find From men who’ve left their hearts behind?— With a fa, la, la, la, la._
_Let wind and weather do its worst, Be you to us but kind, Let Dutchmen vapour, Spaniards curse, No sorrow we shall find: ’Tis then no matter how things go, Or who’s our friend, or who’s our foe, With a fa, la, la, la, la._
_To pass our tedious hours away We throw a merry main, Or else at serious ombre play; But why should we in vain Each other’s ruin thus pursue? We were undone when we left you, With a fa, la, la, la, la._
_But now our fears tempestuous grow And cast our hopes away; Whilst you, regardless of our woe, Sit careless at a play; Perhaps permit some happier man To kiss your hand, or flirt your fan, With a fa, la, la, la, la._
_When any mournful tune you hear That dies in every note As if it sighed with each man’s care For being so remote, Think then how often love we’ve made To you, when all those tunes were played, With a fa, la, la, la, la._
_In justice you cannot refuse To think of our distress, When we for hopes of honour lose Our certain happiness: All those designs are but to prove Ourselves more worthy of your love, With a fa, la, la, la, la._
_And now we’ve told you all our loves, And likewise all our fears. In hopes this declaration moves Some pity for our tears: Let’s hear of no inconstancy, We have too much of that at sea— With a fa, la, la, la, la._
With this song—which is really very good of its kind, and, I think, deserves its fame—Pepys says that he “occasioned much mirth,” although at the time of repeating it he was under the impression that it was written by three authors in collaboration. It seems to have achieved popularity, and was set to music, also a parody was written of it by Lord Halifax under the title “The New Court: Being an Excellent New Song to an old Tune of ‘To all you Ladies now at hand’ by the Earl of Dorset,” and of which the following is the opening verse:
_To all you Tories far from Court We Courtiers now in play Do write, to tell you how we sport And laugh the hours away. The King, the Turks, the Prince, and all Attend with us each Feast and Ball. With a fa_, etc.