THE
CITY of LONDONS
NEW
LETANY.
To the Tune of the Black-Smith.
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FRom Rumps that do Rule against Customs and Lawes,
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From a fardle of fancies stilld a Good Old Cause,
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From Wives that have nailes which are sharper then Clawes.
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Good Jove deliver us all.
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From men who seek right where its not to be had,
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From such who seek good where all things are bad,
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From wise men far worse then fools or men mad.
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Good Jove etc.
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From Soldiers that wrack the poor out or doores,
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From Rumps that stuff Coffers to pleasure their Whores,
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Which they secretly squeez from Common-wealth scores.
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Good Jove etc.
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From Ingrossers of wealth to ly by their walls,
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Which they force from poor women for keeping of Stalls,
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And choose for to rise by other mens fall.
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Good Jove etc.
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From Knaves that do pocket good Subjects Estates,
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From such that give Plaisters when theyve broken our Pates,
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From Rumps that do Vote down our Posts, Chains and Gates.
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Good Jove etc.
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From States-men that Court the thing that they hate,
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From woful Repentance that cometh too late,
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From those that delight in making of bate.
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Good Jove etc.
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From Souldiers who mutiny for want of their pay,
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And at last go sneeking without it away,
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Crying they hope for a far better day.
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Good Jove etc.
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From one who brought forces to fill up the Town,
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That when Rumps were at highest he might pull them down,
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Because he himself doth aim at the Crown.
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Good Jove deliver us all.
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From Commanders who never drew sword but in Schools,
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Which were button-pointed to favour such fools,
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Who in vapouring words do threaten Joynt stools.
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Good Jove etc.
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Who to loose drop of blood would faint at the heart,
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And in dread of a Gun are scard at a Fart,
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If one blows but his Nose it makes them to start.
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Good Jove etc.
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Who think every brush of wind an Alarm,
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To which they make ready and cry out Arm, Arm,
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Yet secretly pray that there may be no harm.
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Good Jove deliver us all.
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From a City that lyes on its back to be Gelt,
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From those that wont stir till famine be felt,
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From the Pike, the Gun, the Sword and the Belt,
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Good Jove etc,
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From a simple Mayor not fit to Rule Hoggs,
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From such as obey him like Spannel Doggs,
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From Summers heat and from Winters Foggs.
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Good Jove etc.
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From County Petitions and Declarations,
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That will not be drawn one Inch from their stations,
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But triumph in words for old Reformations.
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Good Jove etc.
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From Apprentices valour and threats from the City,
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Which would Act great wonders, yet forbear in pitty,
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From fools that conceit themselves very witty.
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Good Jove etc.
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From Oaths and Engagements imposed by force,
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And broken as fast without any remorse,
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Alleadging them Ceremonies of course.
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Good Jove etc.
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From those whose damnd actions with Treason are crownd
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From such that would Law and Gospel confound,
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And Vow that the City theyl burn to the ground.
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Good Jove etc.
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From people that murmur with Swords in their hand,
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And keep an entreating when they may command,
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Yet had rather loose all then Knaves to withstand.
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Good Jove etc,
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From Rumps that the Kingdoms Revenue have spent,
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From an everlasting Parliament,
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And from an Army full of discontent.
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Good Jove etc.
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From such who do courtisies with a long pause,
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From those who condemn before they hear the cause,
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And from Trades which are worse then picking of strawes.
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Good Jove etc.
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From a Foes mercy when one lyes in his power,
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From a Friends anger in an ill hour,
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And from a fool thats Lieutenant of the Tower.
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Good Jove etc.
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From men who make use of their Friends in the nick,
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And when the brunts over against them do kick,
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The thoughts of such Valets doth make my Muse sick.
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Good night good people all.
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