A New Song.
To the Tune of, Lay by your Pleading, etc.
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I.
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LAy by your Reason,
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Truth's out of Season,
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Rebellion now is Loyalty, and Loyalty is Treason.
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Now Forty one, Sir,
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Is quite undone, Sir;
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A Subject then depos'd his King, but now it is his Son, Sir.
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The Nations Salvation
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From Male-Administration
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Was then pretended by the Saints, but now 'tis Abdication.
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II.
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Besides, the Case, Sir,
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Bears another Face, Sir;
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Billy had a mind to Reign, and Jimmy must give place, Sir.
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Raise Insurrections,
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With base Reflections,
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And labour Tooth and Nail to perfect his Projections.
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Rebellion, in fashion,
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Declar'd throughout the Nation,
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Then turn'd his Father out of Doors, and call'd it Abdication.
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III.
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A Declaration
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For Self-preservation
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Was spread abroad, wherein was prov'd a Father no Relation.
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Monarchy haters,
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And Abdicators,
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Did swear themselves into a League with Duchmen and with Traytors.
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They enter, indenture,
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Both Soul and Body venture,
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Whilst at Royal Jimmys Head their Malice still did center.
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IV.
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What have we gained?
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Grievances retained:
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The Government is still the same, the King is only changed.
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Was ever such a Bargain?
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What boots it a Farthing,
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Whether Father Peters Rule, Benting or Carmarthen?
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Oppressed, distressed,
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With empty Purses caressed,
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We still remain in Statu quo, there's nothing yet redressed.
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V.
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Bail for Treason
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Now is out of Season,
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And Judges must be Courtiers still against all right and reason:
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Nay, more I'll mention,
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The Senate has a Pension,
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Which overthrows the Contracts made with the blest Convention.
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Thus we, Sir, you see, Sir,
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Come off by the Lee, Sir;
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We give our Money to be Slaves, instead of being free, Sir.
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VI.
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Never was Beetle
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Blind as this People,
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To think that God will own a Church with a Socinian Steeple.
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Of Wits bereaved,
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By Priests deceived,
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That have brought themselves unto that pass ne'er more to be believed.
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They leer, Sir, for fear, Sir,
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Old Jimmy should come here, Sir;
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And then they'll all Repent that e're they took the Swear, Sir.
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VII.
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Alas! What is Conscience
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In Sherlocks own Sense?
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When Int'rest lyes at Stake an Oath with him is Nonsense:
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The Temple Master
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Fears no Disaster,
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He can take Ten thousand Oaths and ne'er be bound the faster.
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He'll wrangle, and jangle,
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And all their Cause intangle;
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Yet naught can hold the Wretch, but the old Triangle.
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VIII.
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For holy Cause, Sir,
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You may break all Laws, Sir;
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For Perjury nor Treason then do signify two Straws, Sir.
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So bad our Case is
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We'd better far be Papists;
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For now Socinians rule the Church, and they're rul'd by an Atheist.
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The Nations Damnation
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Was their last Reformation;
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Either you must take the Swear, or starving leave your Station.
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