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EBBA 36645

British Library - Thomason Tracts Ballads
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An English Dance to a Scottish Bagpipe.

A Hall, a Hall; let's dance, our task is done;
Thanks unto Lowdon, and to Hinderson:
Our bounds we will inlarge, our names advance,
While that the English to our bagpipe dance:
A Jig, a Jig, Edwards that Boanerges,
Is come, accompanied with Doctor B------:
Old G------ halts hither too, and Cal------,
To trie the case of the Presbyterie.
Delicious Swads, that by the Rubrick prate,
The Alphas and Omegas of the State:
Most holy Caterwaulers, that can prie
Into mens acts, by wits Stenographie.
Olimpick gewgawes, fram'd of pitch and tarre,
Whose sayings still are found orbicular.
New-model'd Elders; whose braines are as drie
As blasted trees, or sand on mountaines high.
Blow thy wind Instrument, about, about,
This musick has inchanted, out of doubt,
The English Senate, that on so small ground
They gave to us two hundred thousand pound.
The while their Soveraigne doth drenched lie,
The essence of true griefs hydrographie.
Here comes too some o'th Army, whose intent
Is alike good to King and Parliament.
Why then dance ye together in a ring?
You hate the Parliament, and they the King.
And now we may prepare, unto our paine,
Scilla and Marius dayes to see againe.
Let Samson turn these Foxes taile to taile,
They need no fire-brands for to assaile;
Their tongues are fir'd by hell, their hands do fall
More ponderous then Talus iron maull.
Their hopes and fears can't rest, untill the Fates
Do thrust them down to Proserpines black gates.
But when these Herods shew their cruelty,
The guiltlesse children every one must die:
But prudence through dark windings some may lead
Safely with Ariadnes clew of thred.
If all were like to them, where should there be
Saints for the heaven, for earth posterity?
Great Xerxes then might justly shed his teares,
And say, that all will die within few yeares.
The Daunian Wolves, Spartan Molossian Dogs,
The Marsian Boares, Arcadian Boares and Hogs;
Th'African may 'mongst us his monsters find,
His painted birds, and fowles of strangest kind.
But while yourselves you wearie, have a care
Of those that of you both so hated are.


Anno 1647.

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