AN
ANSWER
To the Pamphlet called, The Loyal Feast: Or a true Description
of His Majesties Deep-dy'd Scarlet Protestants: The true be-
gotten Sons of the Whore of Babylon.
To the same Tune.
Sauney will never be my Love again.
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TOries are Tools of the Irish Race,
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And well belov'd by Blades of the Town;
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They've Irish Hearts, but an English Face,
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And Dammee and Huzza is all their tone.
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With Abhorring and Addressing their time is spent,
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Quaffing and Cursing, though all in vain:
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But the main thing they fear is an honest Parliament,
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For Tory will still be a Rogue in Grain.
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2.
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Tories are made like Bristol Cans,
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Round and hollow, but I'le tell you more anon;
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The Word is, Dammee Jack! meet me at Sams;
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There's honest Roger, and Flat-footed Tom,
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Huffing and swearing in Silk so fine,
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Black-Coats, Red-Coats, Lord and Swain;
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E're long they'l Petition Caesar to resign,
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For Tory will still be a Rogue in Grain.
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3.
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These are the Lads that fight the Pope's Cause,
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And all resolved, like pious good men,
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To hang by nothing but the Right Line and Laws,
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If the Pope and his Crew return not again;
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Bristols Tears and Englands Woes,
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With Scotlands Groans, do tell us plain,
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They will not take the Oaths they impose,
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For Tory will still be a Rogue in Grain.
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4.
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These are the Babes that wou'd shirk off the Plot,
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And under the Name of the Churches true Sons,
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Swear, Lye, and Sham, to have it forgot;
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But a Pox take the Fops, they talk not to Nuns.
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They'll swear (but who'll be thus deceiv'd)
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That Godfrey murder'd himself 'tis plain;
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But the Devil on't is, they cann't be believ'd,
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Because the Torys a Rogue in Grain.
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5.
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But hark! sure I hear the noise of a Feast,
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Mars and his Sons, with a glorious Show,
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The thing's very true, though I took it for a Jeast:
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But here pray observe how they march'd from Bow,
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O! the vast number, and well accoutr'd too:
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These Bonny Boys, with their gilstering Train;
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But yet the hir'd Feathers, and Fagot Merchants knew,
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That Tory will still be a Rogue in Grain.
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6.
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The Board being spread with store of Flesh and Fish,
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The Fat Kid, Wine, and other things besides;
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The French Mode observ'd, to garnish every Dish,
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and each Course serv'd up with Crucifix and Bread:
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Oaths Rot the Whigs, with Huzzas flew about;
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But Slavery and Oppressions, there lay the Main,
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And all to please the Image of the Rout,
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For Tory will still be a Rogue in Grain.
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7.
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Many fine Shows, and other pleasant Games,
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Were offer'd after all, to please Spectators Eyes;
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The chiefest of which, was Londons fatal Flames;
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May Curses still attend those that Mischief devise:
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These are the Saints, who plead Common-Good,
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Our Persons to secure, but their Intent is plain,
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To Crown us with Slavery, and Christen us in Blood;
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For Tory will still be a Rogue in Grain.
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8.
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God save the KING, and the true Royal James,
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Monmouths Duke and Tony, Englands Friend,
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And all the Honest Souls, tho' I omit their Names;
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May Mischief in earnest their Enemies attend:
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But for those Rogues, that Truths do oppose,
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And for Romes Cause, have play'd their Shams in vain;
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Let Shame and Confusion be Plagues to all those,
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That are such Tories and Rogues in Grain.
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