TOWZER DISCOVER'D:
OR A
New Ballade
ON AN
OLD DOG
That Writes Strange-Lee.
To the Tune of Oh how unhappy a Lover am I.
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HOW unhappy a Mastiffe am I,
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to have all the Dogs of Renown,
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Scratching their Tails and biting their Nails
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for madness that I am in Town.
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At Towzer they daily do bark,
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A Towzer, a Towzer they cry;
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Both the Commons and Peers would all shake my Ears,
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I hardly know where to lie:
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Poor Towzer they maul with Eggs,
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And threaten him in every Street:
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Let me die like a Dog if I know where to jogg:
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For I fear even all that I meet.
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I dare not walk out by day;
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They set Dogs on the Observator:
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If I walk in the Street, I fear all I meet,
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But the Papists and my Creator.
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The Papists will do me no harm,
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My Creator will do me no good.
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I'm a Son of a Bitch if I have not an Itch
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To lick up the Protestant Blood.
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That will make a Popish Cur fat,
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And Towzer is such an one.
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Oh the Times will be well, when my Belly doth swell,
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With picking a Protestant Bone.
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The Commons made Towzer run,
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And hang out his Tongue for Breath;
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But I crept in a Room with the Old Widdow B------m,
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And so was I freed from Death.
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But well may I prick up my Ears,
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My Sorrows are now at an End;
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The Tantivy Race will save my Dogs Face:
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For they fancy that I am their Friend.
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And now I'm a Whelp of Fame,
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And may boldly Caper in Town:
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For Towzer is hid (Oh God forbid)
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And under a Reverend Gown.
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Now Towzer may bark at the best,
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And be a most impudent Cur:
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In a Loyal Disguise he broaches his Lies,
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And makes a most damnable stir.
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Holy Crape doth clap him o'th Back,
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And in Towzer doth take Delight;
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But he little doth dread, that in time of need
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For the Papists Old Towzer will fight.
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Silly Crape, now open thine Eye,
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Like Lynceus look within:
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For surely thou'rt blind, if thou do'st not find
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Popish Flesh in a Protestant Skin.
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Now he doth bark for Crape;
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But anon he will bite for Pope:
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I'll be judg'd by you, if he had his due,
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If he doth not merit a Rope.
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He divides the King and his Flock,
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The Shepherd from harmless Sheep;
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And yet he pretends, that he's their best Friend;
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Oh, who can forbear to weep?
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But Heav'ns preserve our King
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From such as do use Deceit:
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I wish they may swing like a Dog in a String,
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And I hope I don't wish it too late.
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Poor England shall then be at rest,
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And the King shall most happily Reign:
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Our Joy and our Peace shall never more cease
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When ev'ry such Towzer is slain.
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