Berkley, the female champion of our cause,
   While gratitude exists demands applause;
   The morn was fine and pleasant was the scene,
   The sons of Briton met on Writtle green: 
   To church repair’d with fervency and grace,
   And loyalty appear’d on every face;
   Prayers were read with energy and truth,
   To give instructions to the British youth;
   The same good order then was plainly seen,
   When they return’d advancing to the green: 
   The line was form’d and music now begins,
   To offer praises to the best of kings;
   The Captain with due modesty and grace,
   Marches the ensigns to their proper place. 
   With manners pleasing and with accents just,
   The worthy fair one yields the sacred trust;
   Speaks of their duty in the hour of strife,
   Never to yield those colours but with life: 
   With manliness the Captain quick replies,
   No man will yield them! madam, till he dies;
   Ensigns receiv’d them from the Captain’s hand,
   May God protect them ever in this land.