The Royal HEALTH,
Three Glasses in an Hand)
To the King, to The Queen, To the Protestant Religion.
Licensed, and Entr'd according to Order.
To the Tune of, Come, Boys, Fill up a Bumper.
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COme Boys cast away sorrow,
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past cares in Oblivion drownd:
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The leisure from business we borrow,
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in Loyal Helath shall be crownd.
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To the King our Glorious Redeemer,
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thus we our duties pay;
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Let us drink His Health in a brimmer,
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repeated o're every day.
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Our Joys and our Glasses run quicker;
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then welcome the God of the Vine,
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That kindly affords us such Liquor,
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for drinking an health Divine:
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Great WILLIAM that raisd us and sav'd us,
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and reviv'd our drooping hope;
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From those would for ever have enslav'd us,
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in spight both of Devil and Pope.
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To the Queen, whom Heaven has lent us,
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to render our Joys compleat;
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Such a Royal Pair ne're was sent us,
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the malice of Rome to defeat:
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Wit, Honour, Religion, and Beauty,
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her Graces that smile so sweet,
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Shall teach us to pay Her our duty,
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and lay all our Souls at her Feet.
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The Pope and his Imps Infernal,
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and all their Tools are undone;
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For Heaven the kind Guards eternal,
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has planted around the Throne:
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The Kingdom's got out of the Briars,
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and now we'll be bilkt no more
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By Jesuits, Monks, and bald Fryars,
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those Sons of the scarlet Whore.
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To the Protestant Religion.
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To the Church, whose Preservation,
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she owes to this God-like pair,
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Shall flourish again in the Nation,
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and never more shall dispair:
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Our Faith to our Faiths great Defender,
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that safety and glory shall owe;
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That we our whole hearts will surrender,
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our joys and our bowls shall flow.
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Now Nuncio, Jeffrays, and Peters,
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prepare for a Tyburn-string;
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The Nation has long been your debtors,
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and will pay of your scores with a Swing:
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Farewell to your long fly preambles,
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your Jesuits will not do;
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Your Smithfield, your Faggots, and Shambles,
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and all the Blood-thirsty Crew.
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