A NEW
BALLADE,
To an Old Tune. Tom of Bedlam.
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MAke room for an honest Red-coat,
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(And that you'll say's a wonder)
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The Gun, and the Blade,
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Are his Tools, ------ and his Trade,
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Is for Pay, to Kill, and Plunder.
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Then away with the Lawes,
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And the Good old Cause,
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Ne'r talk o'the Rump, or the Charter,
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the Cash does the Feat,
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All the rests but a Cheat,
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Without That there's no Faith, nor Quarter.
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Tis the Mark of our Coin, GOD WITH US,
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And the Grace of the Lord goes along with't,
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When the Georges are flown,
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Then the Cause goes down,
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For the Lord is departed from it.
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Then away, etc.
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For Rome, or for Geneva,
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For the Table, or the Altar,
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This spawn of a Vote,
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He cares not a Groat---------
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For the Pence, hee's your Dog in a Halter.
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Then away, etc.
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Tho' the Name of King, or Bishop,
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to Nostrils pure may be Loathsom,
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Yet many there are,
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That agree with the Mayor,
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That their lands are wondrous toothsom.
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Then away, etc.
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When our Masters are Poor, we Leave 'em,
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the Golden Calf we bow too:
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We Kill, and we slay,
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Not for Conscience, but Pay;
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Give us That, we'll fight for you too.
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Then away, etc.
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'Twas That first turn'd the King out;
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The Lords, next: then, the Commons:
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that kept up Noll,
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Till the Devil fetch'd his Soul;
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And then it set the Bum on's.
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Then away, etc.
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Drunken Dick was a Lame Protector,
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And Fleetwood a Backslider:
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These we serv'd as the rest,
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But the City's the Beast
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That will never cast her Rider.
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Then away, etc.
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When the Mayor holds the Stirrop,
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And the Shreeves cry, God save your Honours:
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Then, 'tis but a Jump,
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And up goes the Rump,
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That will spur to the Devil upon us.
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Then away, etc.
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And now for fling at your Thimbles,
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Your Bodkins, Rings, and Whistles,
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In truck for your Toyes,
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We'll fit you with Boys;
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('Tis the Doctrine of *Hugh's Epistles.)
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Then away, etc.
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When your Plate is gone, and your Jewels,
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You must be next entreated,
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To part with your Bags,
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And strip you to Rags,
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And yet not think y'are cheated.
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Then away, etc.
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The truth is, the Town deserves it;
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a Brainless, Heartless Monster:
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At a Clubb they may Bawl,
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Or Declare at their Hall,
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And yet at a Push not one stir.
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Then away, etc.
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Sir Arthur vowd he'll treat 'em,
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Far worse than the men of Chester:
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He's Bold, now they're Cow'd,
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But he was nothing so Lowd
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When he lay in the ditch at Lester.
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Then away, etc.
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The Lord hath left John Lambert,
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And the Spirit, Feak's Anointed,
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But why oh Lord,
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Hast thou sheathed thy Sword?
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Lo, thy Saints are disappointed.
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Then away, etc.
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Tho' Sir Henry be departed:
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Sir John makes good the place now,
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And to help out the work
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Of the Glorious Kirk,
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Our Brethren march apace too.
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Then away, etc.
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While Divines, and States-men wrangle,
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Let the Rump-ridden Nation bite on't,
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There are none but we
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That are sure to go free,
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For the Souldier's still in the right on't:
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Then away, etc.
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If our Masters w'ont supply us,
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With Mony, Food and Clothing:
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Let the State look to't,
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We'll find one that will do't,
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Let him Live,------ we'll not damn for nothing.
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Then away with the Laws,
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And the Good old Cause,
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Ne'r talk o'the Rump, or the Charter,
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the Cash does the feat,
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All the rests but a Cheat,
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Without That their's no Faith, nor Quarter.
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