A Message from Tory-Land
To the Whig-Makers in Albian.
To the Tune of, Sawney and Jockey.
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[1]
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FRom Rome I am come, His Holyness sent me
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To you his fast Favourits, to complement ye
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Saint Peters Successor his friends doth impute ye
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Expecting youl firmly abide in your duty,
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And daily scribble, nibble, quibble,
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Your mother defend, you suckd at her nipple,
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She who did breed you, lead you, feed you,
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Claims your Assistance now she doth need you.
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[2]
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And with me I bring the Popes Dispensations,
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To furnish you all on any Occasions,
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Then swear and forswear as occasion requires,
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And Cities inflame with your Catholick fires,
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If you cant turn um, scorn um, burn um,
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Else with your sanctified Daggers adorn um,
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Bring to Perfection Distraction, and Faction,
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The Pope will account it a glorious action.
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[3]
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I come to encourage Projectors and Actors,
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His Holiness implements, & the Church Factors
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Your Zeal for the Cause is put to a Tryal,
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When you at the Gallows can die in deniall,
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Thousands of Crosses, Masses, passes
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To mount your blest Souls to Peters imbraces,
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You his Inditers, Biters, and Writers,
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Have done him more Service then Armies of Fighters
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[4]
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Poor Towzer returnd when the Parliament en-ded
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His Politick wit our Cause still befriended
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For his flying Pen so swift is in Motion,
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More blest with the Craft of St. Giless devotion
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Thy Observators matter, scatter,
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In Rome hes a Saint that in Albians a Traytor,
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Since these Dissenters ventures, enters,
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Toss the Plot back, wel sweart at adventures.
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[5]
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The chief of our Foes are now out of favour,
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This, this is the time, there ner was a braver,
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Our Politicks now hath an excellent face ont,
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Then down with these Whigs, not bate um an ace ont
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Those dull Romances, Prances, fancies,
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To Catholick Nat much credit advances,
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Let his Pen Rogue on, tug on, jog on,
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Were Albian our own, stand cleer Hogan Mogan
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[6]
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Godfreys Murder was rarely contrivd,
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To kill himself, he walkd abroad while he lived,
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Heraclitus, Nat and the brave Observator,
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Ingeniously each hath stated the matter,
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For if to fright us, Titus indite us,
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These valiant Heroes stand up to right us,
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those who were stringed, swinged, hanged
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As innocent Babes were certainly wronged,
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[7]
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But dear Madam Celiers intrigue did miscarry,
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You see that tis dangerous to be unwary,
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these Hereticks must by all means be destroyed,
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And all the Church Rights by us be injoyed,
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Yet if we arm us, ram us, damn us
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these Heretick Dogs will find Ignoramus,
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Still it miscarries, it tarries, it varies,
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Yet never were days so blest as Queen Maries.
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[8]
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Cloud the Whigs Evidence with high Dirision,
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And make it your Care to foment Division,
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Divide if you can the Prince from the people,
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And that will advance the Crown that is Triple.
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Now is the time boys, mine boys, thine boys,
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Eclipse but the Whigs, the Tories will shine boys,
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But if youl root um, smoot um, blot um,
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Cut the Dukes Legs, and swear the Whigs cut um.
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[9]
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If mortall Assistance should happen to fail ye,
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Ast did to St. Coleman, St. Whitebread, St. Staley,
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St. Pickering, St. Grove, or such Holy Martyrs,
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stand fast to the Cause, ner value your Quarters.
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You shall be when dead, painted, sainted,
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With Purgatory you shall ner be acquainted,
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When you are Torterd, Quarterd, Martyrd,
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Yare Cananizd Saints all pardon is granted.
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[10]
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There ner was more hope since the Spanish Invasion
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to bring in subjection this Heretick Nation,
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And now should it fail and our Plot be defeated,
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tis vain to expect twill ere be compleated,
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Win it and wear it, clear it, share it,
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Possessions the due reward of your merit,
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You shall have Guinnies, and it no sin is
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to build up with blood on the Protestants-Finis.
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