RUMP
RAMPANT,
OR THE
Sweet Old Cause in sippits:
Set out by Sir T.A. Perfumer to his late Highnesse.
To the Tune of, Last Parliament sat as snugg as a Cat.
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IN the name of the fiend, what the Rump up agin,
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The Delk, and the good old cause,
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If they settle agin, which to think were a sin,
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Good-night to Religion and Laws.
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First Tithes must go down like a sprig of the Crown,
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Although J. Presbiter grumble;
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Already they tell's our Lead and our Bells
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They'l sell, next our Churches must tumble.
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This poor English Nation, by this Generation
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Hath been grieved 11. years and more,
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But in that season, and not without reason,
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They ha' thrice been turnd out of door.
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Which they please to call force, yet themselves can do worse,
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For this Piercel of a House
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Dare keep out of door, thrice as many more,
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And value the Law not a Louse.
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First by Owl-light they met, and by that light they set,
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The reason of it mark,
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Their acts and the light, do differ quite,
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Their deeds do best with the dark.
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Esquire Lenthall had swore, he'd sit there no more,
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Unlesse in with Oxen they drew him,
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That he once might speak true, they pick'd him out two,
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Sent Pembrook and Salisbury to him.
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When these Gamsters were pack'd, the first gracious act
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Was for pence for their friends of the Army,
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Who for any side fight, except't be the right;
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Sixscore thousand a month won't harm ye.
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Yet many there be, say the House is not free,
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When I am sure of that,
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T' one another they are so free, that the Nation do see,
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Their too free for us to be fat.
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Religion they wav'd, now they had us enslav'd
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And got us sure in their Claw,
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They puld of their mask, and set us our task,
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Which is next to make Brick without Straw.
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The next act they made, was for helping of Trade,
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So they settled again the Excise,
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Which the City must pay, for ever and aye,
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Yet might have chose had they been wise.
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To pull down their K. their plate they could bring,
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And other precious things,
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So that Segwick and Peters, were no small getters
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By their bodkins, thimbles and rings.
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But when for the good of the Nation 'twas stood
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Half ruined and forlorne,
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Though't lay in their power, to redeem't in an hour,
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Not a Citizen put out his horn.
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They had manacled their hands, with Kings & Bishops Lands,
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And ruin'd the whole Nation,
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So that nobody cares, though they and their heirs,
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Be Cornute to the third generation.
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May their wives on them frown, but laugh and lie down,
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To anyone else turn up Trump,
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To mend the breed, as I think there is need
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Be rid like their men by the Rump.
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And may these wise Sophees, pay again for their Trophees,
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For I hope the Parliament means
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(Now they ha' been at the costs, to set up the posts)
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To make them pay well for the Chains.
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