In  will the tale be ever told,
Nor will it grow, with ever telling, old:
The lisping infants will their MARLBRO raise,
And their new speech grow plainer in his praise;
His story will employ their middle years,
And in their latest age recall their fears,
While to their children's children they relate
The business of a day, their country's fate:
Then lead them forth, their thoughts to entertain,
And shew the wond'ring youth  plain;
'Twas here they fought, the  fled that way,
And this the spot where MARLBRO prostrate lay.