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EBBA 36774

British Library - Osterley Park
Ballad XSLT Template
THE
CANTER's Confession:
OR,
The Old Round-head
Turn'd RANTER.
To the Tune of, The Guinea wins her, etc.

GIve hear to my Confession,
Which freely I am making,
Friends I have some Discetion,
Or else I am mistaken;
'Tis true my hoary Head is gray,
Now indeed as very well it may,
For why, in Forty one,
I was a Zelots Son,
And ever since those days,
Be't spoken to my praise,
I turn'd ten thousand ways,
And I still, can practise anything that's ill.

Sirs, of a restless Spirit,
I ever was by Nature,
Good worthy Men of Merit,
I took delight to Satyr;
If they were of the weakest side.
Then I'd come in like a flowing Tide,
And let them understand
How far I bore command;
And then to cog and lye
And flatter, who but I,
My noble Standers-by;
I did Reign, much like a Villian then in grain.

I thought by my Ambition,
Myself an Alexander,
And got a high Commission,
To be a Field-Commander;
But once we having lost the day,
Like a nimble Deer I run away,
Full speed I think as most
Light Horse or flying Poast;
The Sword which then I wore,
I threw away, and swore,
I'd never Fight no more,
For my part; I being frighted to the heart.

I chang'd my Cloak of Scarlet,
For one as black as Sable,
And vow'd, I'd cuff Romes Harlet
As fierce as I was able.
But not with Carnal Weapons, no,
For the Preaching-Trade I straight did go;
Then, then, the Whore of Rome
From me receiv'd her Doom,
As loud as I could baul,
I told her she should fall
With Turk, nay, Pope and all;
Thus, kind Sir, I made my party good with her.

But long this had not lasted,
Are I was out of favour,
My Glory being blasted,
My Mind began to waver;
I for a Time was in the dumps,
Till I had discover'd what was Trumps,
And then I play'd again,
But clear another strain,
Resolv'd I was to glide
With pleasant Wind and Tide,
And keep the strongest Side,
This is true, What would you have a Brother do?

Now, now, I am a Quaker,
A seeming serious Brother,
A head-strong party-maker,
My former Cant I'd smother,
But that I know the World has heard,
How in various shaps I have appear'd;
Yet like a Babe of Grace,
I have a serious Face,
Likewise the gift of Prayer,
Besides, I do declare
I can with Hectors Swear;
Thus am I, fit for all kind of Company.


Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden-Ball in Pye-corner.

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