An Excellent New Song,
CALL'D,
The Full Tryal and Condemnation of JOHN
Duke of MARLBOROUGH.
|
I Now have an Ambition,
|
In this great Time of News,
|
To tell you the Deposition,
|
Of the Christians, not the Jews,
|
Against John Duke of Marlborough.
|
Give Ear then, Sons of Britain,
|
Of greater Crimes I sing,
|
Than ever before were writ on,
|
Since the time of a Queen or a King;
|
All done by John Duke, etc.
|
This Man by Constitution,
|
Was made for Liberty;
|
He help'd the late Revolution,
|
On purpose to hurt Popery,
|
Did this John Duke, etc.
|
The next great Crime of many,
|
His troublesom Pride to shew,
|
Was marching to High Germany;
|
And who gave 'em that damnable Blow,
|
But this John Duke? etc.
|
And more to mend the Matter,
|
To his Shame and Reproach,
|
An Army he made take Water,
|
And their General sent by Coach:
|
All prov'd on John Duke, etc.
|
To shew his Whig-Devotion,
|
On keeping the Sabbath-Day,
|
He the Murder at hateful Ramelly began
|
Upon a Whitsunday.
|
O Heathen John Duke, etc.
|
Tho busy in his Slaughtering,
|
His Avarice ran so high,
|
That rather than spare the most Christian King,
|
He Ten Thousand Pounds gave to a Spy.
|
O covetous John Duke, etc!
|
At Audenard so ill to treat Foes,
|
And make poor Widows of Wives;
|
He took a Delight to beat those,
|
That never beat him in their Lives.
|
O cowardly John Duke, etc.
|
Boufflers, a civil good Man,
|
Safe in his Trenches close,
|
From Mons he made run like a Footman,
|
Tho bulwarkt as high as his Nose.
|
Uncivil John Duke, etc.
|
To every tender Christian Ear,
|
When Crimes like these shall come,
|
I know not how they may Abroad appear,
|
I'm sure they sound oddly at Home:
|
These Deeds of John Duke, etc.
|
Some Facts to make the French undone,
|
I've prov'd upon him well;
|
And truly what 'tis he has not done,
|
Impossible 'tis to tell,
|
Of this John Duke, etc.
|
To prove that all these Things are so,
|
And not what Folks devise,
|
Was he ever the Man that once spar'd the Foe,
|
Or ever affronted th' Allies,
|
This same John Duke, etc.
|
Ghent, Bruges and Tournay too,
|
And late the strong Bouchain,
|
Of his own Head he forc'd to obey too,
|
Tho wanting his Brother Eugene;
|
Hot-headed John Duke, etc.
|
Of these immoral Things he brags,
|
we take no notice at all;
|
You see with his pitiful French bloody Rags,
|
How he litter'd poor Westminster-Hall.
|
O slovenly John, etc.
|
Nay more he still would fly at,
|
And all to mend the Peace;
|
Lord! how can we ever be quiet,
|
If we pardon such Crimes as these
|
In any but John Duke, etc.
|
Twelve Years it sadly true is,
|
By taking Towns and Lines,
|
And baffling the poor King Lewis,
|
He has spoil'd the Pretender's Designs.
|
O meddlesome John Duke, etc.
|
Success still made him bolder,
|
And by the Monsieur's Fall,
|
He has pass'd on this Isle for a Soldier,
|
But it seems he knows nothing at all.
|
Earl P-----t says so of Marlbro.
|
This Year for War he voted,
|
But we resolved on none;
|
For Monsieur was sure to be routed,
|
And then High-Church had been undone
|
By English John Duke, etc.
|
You see the Troops don't need him,
|
He's out, and in France they laugh;
|
And send any other to head 'em,
|
And I'll warrant old Bourbon is safe:
|
Keep back but John Duke, etc.
|
For he, as Fame confesses,
|
That Kingdom meant to devour;
|
For which, and his heinous Successes,
|
He's broke, and our Fears are all o'er,
|
Thus fell John Duke of Marlbro'.
|
|
|
|
|
|