A Whigg Ballad,
OR, A
SUMMONS
To a fresh
ASSOCIATION.
To the Tune of Tumble down Dick.
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ON Month of September we summon you All,
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Our Summons is by our Good Lord Mayor's Call,
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As you Love Common-Wealth, and Abhor White-Hall:
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Which nobody can deny.
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Tho Vote for P--- and Weaver D---
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(The Whiggs thrice-beloved, not Citizens, Choice;)
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No matter what Reason, so you make a Noise;
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Which nobody can deny.
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(Ralph B--- having, after a long Tory-Tugg,
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Instead of a Druggist, himself prov'd a Drugg,
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Paid Fine to a Lover of Dear Mother Mugg:)
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Which, etc.
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You All here are cited to Common-Hall Vote.
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Each one to lift up his True Protestant Throat,
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And bawl in Defyance of Men of good Note:
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Which, etc.
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These are therefore to summon each Eves-dropping Citt,
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Who for a State-Holder has dubb'd himself fit,
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And damns All that's Loyal without Fear or Wit:
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Which, etc.
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To Roar at Guild-Hall like Homerical Mars,
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In defyance oth' Head, with regard to the *A---
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(Guild-Hall is your Stage, and Sedition your Farce.)
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Which, etc.
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Now after a Summons so Debonaire,
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Held forth by Proprietour of the Chair,
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We challenge All Whiggs to Guild-Hall to repair:
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Which, etc.
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For if half be True, that of late has been bruited,
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The Rioting Whiglanders soon will be Routed,
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As sure as Don Hornish by Bull was Cornuted:
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Which, etc.
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Then either born up by bold Holder forth,
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You'l bravely confront your *Deadly Foe North,
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Contending like Men of True Protestant Worth:
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Which, etc.
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Or else, like Men-worthy, at Home you will Stay.
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Solacing your Wives the Jack Pres-byter way;
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If so, Good Old Cause must sing Well-a-day.
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Which, etc.
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