RUMP RAMPANT, OR THE Sweet Old Cause in sippets: Set out by Sir T. A. Perfumer to his late highness.  
To the Tune of, Last Parliament sat as snugg as a Cat.  

IN the name of the fiend, what the Rump up again,  
The Delk, and the good old cause,  
If they settle again, which to think were a sin,  
Good-night to Religion and Laws.   

First Tithes must go down like a sprig of the Crown,  
Although J. presbyter grumble;  
Already they tell's our Lead and our Bells  
They'll sell, next our Churches must tumble.   

This poor English Nation, by this Generation  
Hath been grieved 11. years and more,  
But in that season, and not without reason,  
They ha'thrice been turned out of door.   

Which they please to call force, yet themselves can do worse,  
For this Piercel of a House  
Dare keep out of door, thrice as many more,  
And value the Law not a Louse.   

First by Owl-light they met, and by that light they set,  
The reason of it mark,  
Their acts and the light, do differ quite,  
Their deeds do best with the dark.   

Esquire Lenthall had swore, he'd sit there no more,  
Unless in with Oxen they drew him,  
That he once might speak true, they picked him out two,  
Sent Pembroke and Salisbury to him.   

When these gamesters were packed, the first gracious act  
Was for pence for their friends of the Army,  
Who for any side fight, excepted be the right;  
Sixscore thousand a month won't harm ye.   

Yet many there be, say the House is not free,  
When I am sure of that,  
th'ne another they are so free, that the Nation do see,  
Their too free for us to be fat.   

Religion they waved, now they had us enslaved  
And got us sure in their Claw,  
They pulled of their mask, and set us our task,  
Which is next to make Brick without Straw.   

The next act they made, was for helping of Trade,  
So they settled again the Excise,  
Which the City must pay, for ever and aye,  
Yet might have chose had they been wise.   

To pull down their K. their plate they could bring,  
And other precious things,  
So that Segwick and peter's, were no small getters  
By their bodkins, thimbles and rings.   

But when for the good of the Nation 'twas stood  
Half ruined and forlorn,  
Though't lay in their power, to redeem't in an hour,  
Not a Citizen put out his horn.   

They had manacled their hands, with Kings & Bishops Lands,  
And ruined the whole Nation,  
So that nobody cares, though they and their heirs,  
Be Cornute to the third generation.   

May their wives on them frown, but laugh and lie down,  
To any one else turn up Trump,  
To mend the breed, as I think there is need  
Be rid like their men by the Rump.   

And may these wise Sophees, pay again for their trophies,  
For I hope the Parliament means  
(Now they ha' been at the costs, to set up the posts)  
To make them pay well for the Chains.   
THE RUMP