Raree Show Or the true Protestant Procession. A new Ballad  
to the Tune of the Northumberland man.  

1.  
THis is the Cabal of some Protestant Lords  
A forging the turn that not long since they had,  
Here W— ● sitteth and searcheth Records▪  
to find Flaws in good Statutes, & varnish the bad.   

2.  
This is the Lord Tony that slyly sits here  
Who to shame and contrive has never denied  
And rather then the Good Cause should fall through his fear  
He'll let out Rebellion by broaching his side.   

3.  
This is Popular Perkin that smirks and looks gay  
The women extols the Spark up to the sky,  
None danceth with so great a grace, as they say,  
Yet some body thinks that he caper's too high.   

4.  
Here flourishing E— the tongue o'th' Gang  
With Rhetorical Artifice fancies fine things,  
First vainly composeth a taking Harangue  
than fosters a Villain in Libelling Kings.   

5.  
Here's Doctor Informant that ne'er would stick out  
To traffic in Oaths or tell a Stately,  
Observe how he firks all the Jesuits about,  
First blaws on a Beuk, and so Papists God b— y.   

6.  
Here's Wilmore that's troubled with scruples & stings  
His Citizen's conscience is nice and demure,  
A traitor's Indicted for treasonable things,  
But he tells you 'tis false, he's a Protestant sure.   

7.  
These are some sage Citizens that you see there,  
Who out of their Zeal all our rights to maintain  
And to keep out all slavery, have taken a care  
to put up in the streets two Posts and a Chain.   

8.  
The sear some Apprentices that still do retain  
Some Tenets their Masters approve and allows,  
They come to direct a wise Monarch to Reign  
Instead of sweeping their shop and cleaning of shoes.   

9  
This is the Committee where grievance is scanned  
Which Remonstrates the danger that threatens the State  
Good service is here by suspicion Trapan'd  
And Allegiance is reckoned Malignancy straight.   

10.  
Her's the Synod of Saints that will sometimes refresh  
The failings of nature with means of their own.  
They'll preach you the mortification of flesh  
With eyes up to Heaven and Breeches let down.   

11.  
These are the Cabal of the Covenantiers  
That think they maintain the Religion the best  
By pulling down Churches and their Overseers  
And routing the Defender of Faith with the rest.   

12.  
These are the Remains of the Levelling Rump  
That stink in the House and fresh Commons annoy,  
And lest the right James should be turned up for Trump  
They cry out, a Court Card will their gaming destroy.   

13.  
That Lumber of Trumpery buzzing about  
Are silly Subscribers that come at first dash,  
To make up a large Petitioning rout  
Of Link-boys and all such true Protestant trash.   

14.  
These there are the Hucksters that Treason retail,  
They'll sell you a sheet with a pennyworth in't;  
That's Courantier Care that never will fail  
to scribble, whilst Langly dares Publish and Print.   

15.  
That's the Club of a Pack of ingenious friends  
that made Charles a Scotch Pedlar in the Rare show,  
And I hope that our Monarch to make them amends  
will give them a Yard of St. Johnstons' or two,    

Printed for A. B. 1681.