A TURN-COAT of the Times.
Who doth by experience profess and protest,
That of all professions, a Turn-Coats 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 usd to do,
|
some two or three months ago
|
I laid me all along
|
Without any fear of wrong,
|
And listend unto a Song;
|
It came from a powdered thing
|
As fine as a Lord or a 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 Cavaliers I can play:
|
with Shop-keepers I
|
can cogg and lye,
|
And couzen as fast as they.
|
When first the Wars 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 land:
|
But when I began to spy,
|
Protectorship drew nigh,
|
and Keepers were
|
thrown oer the Bar,
|
Old Oliver then cryd I.
|
WHen Sectarists got the day
|
I used my yea, and nay;
|
to flatter and then betray,
|
In Parliament I gat,
|
And there a Member sat,
|
To tumble down Church & State,
|
For I was a trusty trout
|
In all that I went about
|
and there we did vow
|
to sit till now,
|
But Oliver turnd us out.
|
We put down the house of Peers,
|
We killed the Cavileers,
|
and tippld 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 int.
|
When Charles was put to flight
|
Then I was at Worster fight
|
and got a good booty byt,
|
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 crippled the Scottish Kirk
|
that set us at first to work,
|
When Cromwell did but frown
|
They yielded every Town,
|
St. Andrews Cross went down
|
But when old Nol 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 me in 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 Monk was upon that score
|
I thought I would play no more
|
I did not think what
|
he would be at,
|
I neer 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 Cavileers,
|
Poor knaves they know not how,
|
To flatter, cringe and bow,
|
for he that is wise
|
and means to rise,
|
He must be a Turn-coat too.
|
|
|
|
|
|