A Turn-Coat of the Times,
Who doth by experience profess and protest,
That of all his professions, a Turn-Coat's the best.
Tune is, The Kings delight, Or, True-love is a gift for a Queen.
|
AS I was walking through
|
Hide-Park as I us'd to do,
|
some two or three months ago
|
I laid mee all along
|
Without any fear of wrong,
|
And listen'd unto a Song;
|
It came from a powdered thing
|
As fine as a Lord or King,
|
he knew not that I
|
was got so nigh,
|
And thus he began to sing.
|
I am a turn-coat Knave,
|
Although I do bear it brave,
|
and do not shew all I have,
|
I can with tongue and pen
|
Court every sort of men,
|
And kill'em as fast agen.
|
With Zealots I can pray,
|
With Cavalliers I can play;
|
with shop-keepers I
|
can cogg and lye,
|
And Couzen as fast as they.
|
When first the Warre began,
|
And Prentices lead the Van,
|
'twas I that did set them on,
|
when they cryed Bishops down
|
In Country, Court, and Town,
|
Quoth I, and have at the Crown,
|
The Covenant I did take,
|
For form and fashions sake,
|
but when it would not
|
support my plot,
|
'Twas like an old Almanack.
|
When Independency,
|
Had superiority
|
I was of the same degree;
|
When Keepers did command,
|
I then had a holy hand
|
In Deans and in Chapters lands
|
But when I began to spye,
|
Protector-ship drew nigh,
|
and Keepers were
|
thrown o're the Barr,
|
Old Oliver then cry'd I
|
WHen Sectarists got the day
|
I used my yea, and nay;
|
to flatter and then betray,
|
In Parliament I got,
|
And there a Member sat,
|
To tumble down Church & State, state
|
For I was a trusty trout
|
In all I went about,
|
and there we did vow
|
to sit till now,
|
But Oliver turn'd us out.
|
We put down the house of Peers
|
We killed the Cavalliers,
|
and tippl'd the widows tears
|
We sequestred mens Estates,
|
And made'em pay monthly rates
|
To trumpeters and their mates
|
Rebellion we did Print,
|
And altered all the Mint;
|
no knavery then
|
was done by men,
|
But I had a finger in't,
|
When Charles was put to flight
|
Then I was at Wor'ster fight,
|
and got a good booty by't;
|
At that most fatal fall
|
I killed and plundered all,
|
The weakest went to the wall,
|
Whilst my merry mates fell on
|
To pillaging I was gone,
|
there is many (thought I)
|
will come by and by,
|
And why should not I be one.
|
We triumphed like the Turk,
|
We cripled the Scottish Kirk
|
that set us at first to work,
|
When Cromwel did but frown
|
They yeilded every Town,
|
St! Andrew's Cross went down
|
But when old Noll did dye,
|
And Richard his son put by,
|
I knew not how
|
to guide my plow,
|
where now shall I be thought I.
|
I must confess the Rump,
|
Did put mee into a dump
|
I knew not what would be trump
|
When Dick had lost the day
|
My gaming was at a stay,
|
I could not tell what to play,
|
When Monek was upon that score
|
I thought I would play no more
|
I did not think what
|
he would be at,
|
I ne're was so mumpt before.
|
But now I am at Court,
|
With men of the better sort
|
and purchase a good report;
|
I have the eyes and ears,
|
Of many brave Noble Peers,
|
And slight the poor Cavalliers,
|
Poor knaves they know not how
|
To flatter, to cringe, and bow,
|
for he that is wise
|
and means to rise,
|
He must be a turn-Coat too.
|
|
|
|
|
|