The Tories Confession,
Or, A merry song in Answer to
The WHIGS Exaltation:
To the same Tune of Forty One.
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[1]
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A Pox on Whigs we'l now grow wise
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Let's cry out guard the Throne,
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By that we'l damn the Good Old Cause
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And make the Game our own
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Religion, that shall stoop to us,
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and so shall Liberty,
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We'l make their Laws as thin as Lawn,
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such Tory Rogues are we.
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[2]
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When once that Preaching Whineing Crew
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are crush'd and quite undone,
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The Poor we'l banish by our Laws,
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and all the rest we'l burn.
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Then Abbey-Lands shall be possest
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by those whose Right they be,
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We'l cry up Laws, but none we'l use,
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such Tory Rogues are we.
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[3]
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The Name of Protestant we hate,
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the Whigs they know it well,
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And since we can't it longer hide
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let's Truth genteely tell.
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Now Dam me is good Manners grown,
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and tends to Gallantry,
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We'l S---- the Nation out of Doors,
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such cursed Rogues are we.
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[4]
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What care we for a Parliament,
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no Money comes from thence,
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Would they but give us Coyn enough,
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we'd spend the Nations pence.
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These two-penny States-men all shall down,
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a glorious sight to see,
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To finish all we'l plunder 'um too,
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such Sons of Whores are we.
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[5]
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We'l build more Universities,
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for there lies all our hope,
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And to th' Crape Gown we'l cringe & creep
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supposing 'twere a Pope;
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Say what he will we'l him believe,
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if true or false it be,
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And while he prays we'l Drink his Health,
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such Tory Rogues are we.
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[6]
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What pimping Whig shall dare controule,
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or check the lawfull Heir,
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We'l take the Rascall by the Pole,
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and Pox of all his Hair.
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Then here goes honest Jamess Health,
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come drink it on your Knee,
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Dzowns we'l have none but honest souls,
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such Tory Rogues as we.
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[7]
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These Crafty Whigs are subtle Knaves
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to give um all their due,
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And yet we bauk'd the Popish Plot,
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though they had sworn it true.
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For this you know who we may thank,
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But Mum for that, yet we
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Are bound to pray and praise him for't,
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such Tory Rogues are we.
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[8]
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When all these zealous Whigs are down,
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we'l drink and fall a roaring,
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And then set up the Tripple Crown,
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Saint us all for whoreing.
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When we have quite inslav'd um all,
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ourselves cannot be free.
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Then prithee Devil claim thy own,
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for hey to Hell go we.
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[9]
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We'l chuse their Sheriffs and Juries too
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and then pretend 'tis Law,
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We'l bring more Irish o're to swear
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those they never saw:
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We'l seize their Charters, then they must
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come beg um on their Knee,
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If this won't do we'l call the French,
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such cursed Rogues are we.
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