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EBBA 30949

British Library - Roxburghe
Ballad XSLT Template
The Wine-Cooper's Delight,
To the Tune of, The Delights of the Bottle.

The Delights of the Bottle are turn'd out of dores,
by Factious Fanati-cal sons of damn'd Whores.
French Wines Pro-hi-bicion meant no other thing,
but to poyson the Subject, and begger the King.
Good Nature's suggested with Dregs like to choak her,
of fulsom stum'd Wine by the cursed Wine-Cooper

Our plaguy Wine-Cooper has tamper'd so much,
To find out the subtilty of the false Dutch.
He tinctures prickt White-w[i]ne, that never was good,
Till it mantles, and sparkles, and looks like Bulls blood;
But when it declines, and its Spirit[s] expire,
He adds more Ingredients and makes it look higher.

His old rotten Pipes, where he keeps all this Trash,
For fear they should burst, Sir, he hoops them with Ash.
When the Sophistication begins for to froth,
And boyls on the Fret, Sir, he wisely pulls forth
A Tap, which gives vent to the grounds of the Cause,
And then is to vamp up a second Red Nose.

Then this dungy Wine-Cooper stops it up again,
And keeps it unvended till 't's all on a stame.
The Intelligences then were invented to show,
Where Wine of strange Vertues in plently did flow.
People from all parts of the Nation did come,
Both Lords, Knights and Gentlemen, Doctor and Bum

The Cooper then pulls the Tap out of his side,
And drinks to the Elders of all his good Tribe.
But when they had gusl'd about all their Bowls,
They found a strange Freedom it gave to their Souls,
Of secrets in Nature, that never were known,
It gave Inspiration from Begger to Throne.

The Second Part to the same Tune.

For the Cooper himself full Brimmers did draw,
And all the whole Gang were oblig'd to do so.
Amongst these Cabals there was no such a thing,
As a health once propos'd to the Duke or the King.
But drank to that Idol of Hopes, in their Powers,
And Sons of most Infamous Hackney old Whores.

Then the Rabble had notice from Smith and from Ben,
What a heavenly Liquor was sent amongst men.
Both Tinkers and Coblers, the Broom-men and Sweep,
Before this Wine-Cooper in Flocks they did meet;
And each under foot stampt his old greazy Bonnet,
To drink M------th's Health, Sir, whatever came on it.

The Cooper perceiving his Trade to approach,
He then was resolved once more to debauch.
To encourage the Rabble, and shew himself stout,
He pull'd out the Spigot amongst the whole Rout;
Which kindness provokt them to swear they would bring
Such Trade to his House as wou'd make him a King.

A Hat or a Pottle was still at the Tap,
But Zealots some times laid their Mouths to the Fat.
They charg'd their brisk Bumpers so many times round,
Till part of the Mobile sprawl'd on the ground:
But when this damn'd Liquor was got in their pates,
They fell to Bumbasting, Disord'ring of States.

They began to cant Dangers by formal Sedition,
And swear lawful Allegiance 'gainst lawful Succession.
When these Propositions began to take Fire,
They screw'd their Presumptions a hole or two higher:
But still they keep under Hugh Peterss Cloak,
To bring in the Devil, to drive out the Pope.

But then they began for to pick at the Crown,
Each thinking that he deserv'd one of his own.
Then all the King's Guards they thought fit to Indict,
Swear Treason 'gainst all that maintain'd the King's Right.
Both Papist and Protestant no matter whether,
They are not of our party, let's hang 'em together.

Next the chief of our Game is to keep the King poor,
And our Senators must the Militia secure.
The Navy and Cinque-Ports we'll have in our hands,
And then we'l make th'Kingdom obey our Commands:
Then if Charles do withstand us, we need not to fight,
To make Eighty one to out-do Forty eight.

Whatever Objections great Loyallists bring,
Old Adam liv'd happy without e're a King.
Then why may not we, that are much wiser than he,
Subdue the whole World, Sir, by our Sov'reignty?
If one man alone can keep three Nations under,
Then why may not we that are Kings without number?

Right, said the Cooper, and shak'd his old Noddle,
Three Kingdoms we'l toss, like a Child in a Cradle.
Stick close to this Liquor which I do prepare,
'Twill make us as splendid as Noll in his Chair.
We'l kindle old Plots, by inventing of new,
Till none shall be safe but the Cooper and You.

O brave Boys! O brave Boys! the Rabble did rore,
Tantivies and Tories shall Hector no more;
By Us they're out-acted, to Us they shall bend,
Whilst we to our Dignities freely ascend.
Then they were dead-drunk as the Devil could make 'em,
And fell fast asleep, as ten Drums could not wake 'em.

In the Piss and the Spew the poor Cooper did paddle,
To stop up his Tap, but the Knave was not able.
For his Limbs like a Tortoise did shrivle and crease,
Down drops the Wine-Cooper with the other Beasts.
And there the whole Litter as yet doth abide,
At the Sign of the Butt, with the Tap in one side.


LONDON,
Printed for the Protestant Ballad-Singers.
1681

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