THE
WINCHESTER HEALTH:
Or, An Excellent New Pleasant Song of his Majesty, his Royal
Brother, James Duke of York, Prince George, the Duke of Monmouth, the
Duke of Albemarle, the Earl of Craven, and the rest of the Loyal Peers
of these three Nations, of England, Scotland, and Ireland.
To the Tune of, Captain Digbys Farewel.
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HEre's a Health to Great Charles, our Soveraign King,
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Come Loyal Boys fill the Glass to the brim,
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Here's a Health to old James, and young Jemmy too,
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Come drink it about, and make no more to do.
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Hers's a Health to Prince George, come fill each man his brimmer,
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For he's no good Subject that wont drink a swimmer.
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Then let all his Subjects hereafter be kind,
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And harbour no more ill thoughts in their mind.
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Here's a Health to Albemarle, and the Council of State,
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And a Health to all those that do not their King hate;
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We'll have the other bout as long as we have Chink,
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He's a Whig or a Tory, that wont with us drink.
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A Health to old Craven I will drink also,
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And to the Confusion of all their foes.
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Then let all his Subjects, etc.
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You Peers of these Nations, pray never Rebel
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Against your good King, that ruleth so well;
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A Prince that favours his Subjects too much,
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Because of that, their malice is such,
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That they do hate, and owe him ill will,
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And they did seek his Blood for to spill.
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Then let all his Subjects, etc.
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Great Charles is a Prince, and a Monarch indeed,
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That doth not desire a Subject to Bleed;
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Such a merciful Prince was here never known,
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Come drink his Health about every one.
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Come let us be Loyal, and drink off our Wine,
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Tho Pope and Presbyter should both much repine.
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Then let all his Subjects, etc.
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Come let us all rejoice here and sing,
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God bless Royal Charles, our Soveraign King;
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And send him long here to Reign in peace,
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And that all Plottings may hereafter cease:
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We'll love our King, and wish him happy days,
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Let us drink to all that daily speak his praise.
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But hereafter be wise, and your King do not hate,
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And ne're be concern'd with matters of State.
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A wiser King in England was ne're known,
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He ruleth in Peace, makes the Land overflown
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With Curs'd Traytors that seek his life for to take,
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Which maketh all Loyalists Hearts for to ake.
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Here's a Health to all those that ne're thought the King ill,
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Nor never did seek the Kings Blood for to spill.
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But let all his Subjects, etc.
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Farewel Loyal Boys, till the next time we meet;
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What is here to pay? Come Drawer let's see't.
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Let the Whigs and the Tories be damn'd if they will,
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Because Royal Blood they seek for to spill.
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It's time to be gone, and so fare you well,
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Let them all Plot, till they Plot into Hell.
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But let all his Subjects hereafter be kind,
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And harbour no more ill thoughts in their mind.
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