A New Ballad from WHIGG-LAND.
To the Tune of, Hey Boys up go We.
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BRave Monmouth's out of Favour now,
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The Lord knows what's the Cause,
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I think no one can justly say,
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He has transgrest the Laws:
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But yet the Tories cry him down,
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Old Tony and Young Gray;
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By this in time they'l gain renown,
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But the clean contrary way.
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Stout Monmouth fought Rebellious Scots,
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And brought them on their Knees,
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He made the stubborn Necks to stoop
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Of Men of all Degrees;
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But Bothwel-Bridge is now forgot,
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And Mastrichts storm they say,
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And his Honour's like to go to th' Pot,
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But the clean contrary way.
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He kept the PAPISTS all in Awe,
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Though now they strut like JAYES;
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They value neither him nor Law,
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I speak it to their Praise;
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But yet I hope the time will come,
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By Night or else by Day,
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When all his Foes shall gain Renown.
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But the clean contrary way.
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ABHORRERS are the Blades of Fame,
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The Glory of the Land,
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They hate his Actions and his Name,
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And at defiance stand;
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They trample on his Noble Acts,
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And truly well they may,
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For they are Mounting up we find,
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But the clean contrary way.
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The Papists now do gain their end,
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Whilst Monmouth is run down,
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They seek to get their Popish Friend,
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possest o'th' English CROWN:
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But let them PLOT a thousand times,
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Their PLOTS will faile, I'le say;
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I hope indeed they'l Mount the Throne,
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But the clean contrary way.
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Where will ABHORRERS hide themselves
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When th' Parliament draws near,
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L'Estrange, and THEY, and Thompson too,
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will hide themselves I fear,
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They'l fly like Chaff before the Wind
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for all their fine Array,
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They all will be preferr'd you'l find,
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But the clean contrary way.
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Brave Monmouth now is laid aside,
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As useless to the KING;
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But yet it must not be denyed,
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He made the Nation Ring;
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He was the Glory of this Land,
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Next to the King, I say,
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But now it seems he has Command,
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The clean contrary way.
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Bad times will hardly mend I doubt,
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If Papists come in pow'r;
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The POPE will have another Bout
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Our Nation to devour;
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And we may sink beneath the Yoak,
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And all become his prey,
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We may well look to Rise by Him,
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but the clean contrary way.
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But GOD preserve our KING so long,
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Till we secure our Peace;
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Then we may sing a Thankful Song,
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When all our Discords cease,
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But whilst the Papists soar aloft
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How can we sing or play,
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Alas our Comforts come to us,
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The clean contrary way.
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Should Monmouth fall Our Hopes would fail
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Of Comfort and of Aid,
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The PAPISTS think they might prevail
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In the Old PLOTTING Trade;
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But let him Live to Vex them still
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And lodge them all in Clay,
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And let them find their Glory Rise,
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The clean contrary way.
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The Quakers now are Cramm'd in Goals,
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Because they will not Swear
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The Presbyter and Baptists too,
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And Independant's here
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Because they will not go to Church
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with Common-Prayer to Pray
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It seems the Law must make them Rich
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The clean contrary way,
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Ten Thousand Protestants we find
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Are WHIGGS estemed now,
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And all because they do not Mind
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At ALTERS for to Bow,
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If Papists Mount then they must fall
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For all they look so Gay,
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And they must Rise both Great and Small
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The clean contrary way,
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But Heavens Protect our Sacred King,
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And send a PARLIAMENT,
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And then true Protestants may Sing
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And have their full Content,
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The TORY Tribe will then be known
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And for their Roguery pay,
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And the POPE shall once-more gain his Own
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The clean contrary way,
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No Doubt the Popish Tribe will say,
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A WHIGG did make this Song
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By all that's good I go to Church,
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They do my Muses wrong
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But he's an Asss, will goe to Mass
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To here the Asses Bray,
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And he to Heaven in time will pass,
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The clean contrary way.
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