I thanke you twice:
OR,
The City Courting their owne ruine,
Thank the Parliament twice, for their treble undoing.
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THe Hierarchy is out of date,
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Our Monarchy was sick of late,
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But now 'tis grown to an excellent state,
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Oh God a mercy Parliament.
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The Teachers know not what to say,
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The Prentices have leave to play,
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The people have all forgotten to pray,
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Still God a mercy Parliament.
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The Roundhead, and the Cavalier
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Have fought it out almost seven yeare,
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And yet (methinks) they are never the neere,
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Oh God etc.
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The Gentry are sequestred all,
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Our Wives you find at Goldsmiths Hall,
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For there they meet with the Divell and all,
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Still God etc.
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The Parliament are grown to that heigth,
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They care not a pin what his Majesty saith,
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And they pay all their debts with the publique faith,
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Oh God etc.
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Though all we had here, is brought to nought,
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In Ireland we have whole Lordships bought,
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And there we shall one day be rich, 'tis thought,
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Still God etc.
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We must forsake our Father and Mother,
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And for the state, undoe our own brother,
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And never leave murthering of one another,
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Oh God, etc.
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Now the King is caught, and the Divell is dead,
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Fairefax must be disbanded,
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Or else he may chance to be Hothamed,
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Still God etc.
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They have made King Charles a glorious King,
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He was told (long agoe) of such a thing,
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Now he, and his Subjects have reason to sing,
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Oh God a mercy Parliament.
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