A
SONG
UPON
TITUS:
To the Tune of, Hail to the Mirtle Shade.
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ALL Hail to the Chief of the Post,
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To Titus the Saint of the Town,
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Titus who vainly doth boast
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Of a Salamanca Gown:
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Titus, who saw the World round,
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From his Tower at Valladolid,
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From Mounsieur Le Chese the Seas o're,
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To the White Horse Tavern Deed.
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Hail Titus at Watton in May,
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And Titus at Islington,
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Titus, the self same day
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Both here and there again:
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Titus, that never swore truth in the Court,
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His Plot for to maintain;
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Nor ne're could be positive for't,
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When call'd to the Test again.
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Then Titus was meekest of all,
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When never a penny in's Purse,
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He oft upon Pickering did call,
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His Charity to disburse.
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But when he made false most damnable Oaths,
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And lying no Sin,
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Then Titus was one of those,
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Whom the Devil had entred in.
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Titus, the Frowns of Heaven,
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And Titus a Plague upon Earth:
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Titus ne're to be forgiven,
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But curs'd in his fatal Birth:
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Titus the Scourge and bane of the Poor,
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And Just Man too-----
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O Titus thou Son of a W-----
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What (a Plague!) dost thou mean to do.
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