Dr. Oats last Farewell to ENGLAND  
He went on Shipboard upon Sunday last, with fourscoure Bums to Attend his Sir-Reverence to Stom-Bola; where he's a going to be Mufty to the Grand Turk.  
A SONG To the Tune of the Loyal-Conquest or Law lies a bleeding,  

FArewell to London,  
To Trenchard, and Hamdan,  
I have swore my Plotting Jump away  
Poor Lying Oats is undone.  
My Bums now do flight me,  
That used to delight me;  
For when I come full charged, at them,  
Like squalling Cats they fight me:  
For Peaching, and Teaching,  
For Blasphemy, and Preaching  
I like a Rogue must Run away,  
And Damned for over Reaching.   

Oh! how things are altered,  
Since Jesuits I Haltered,  
Since Tap, and I did foil the Crown,  
How all our Plots have faulter'd;  
My Clyster-pipe is Lowering,  
And stinks for want of Scowering;  
I must for Turkey steer my Course,  
And preach up, downright Whoring:  
For Peaching, and Teaching, etc.   

Bedlow now is Rotten,  
And Dugdal is forgotten,  
My Plotting-Trade is at an end,  
All our Cabals are broken;  
Our Credit still is smaller,  
Like Brazen Prance the Bauler;  
There's near a Turk in all the Town,  
Dares cry out for a Waller:  
For Peaching, and Teaching, etc.   

Tom and Grace in Trenches  
For Treason small offences,  
I squeak about, to find 'em out,  
In holes amongst the Wenches;  
His Grace, did I but fear him,  
I'd pawn my Jump to clear him,  
He's clasped so close in Venus' Arms,  
No Mortal can come near him,  
For Peaching, and Teaching, etc.   

My God Mahomet tells me,  
Their still in Town, and will be,  
Like cursed Cain I must turn out,  
If here I stay, they'll hang me;  
Was ever poor Imposter,  
Exposed to more Disaster,  
I often think to hang myself,  
To please Old-Nick, my Master:  
For Peaching, and Teaching, etc.   

I Thousands have jayled,  
And scorned they should be Bailed,  
Swore men to Death, I never saw,  
That Magic now has failed.  
The Lords in the Tower,  
I had 'em once secure,  
Last Parliament losing the heat,  
My Oath has lost its power:  
For Peaching, and Teaching, etc.   

Since first, I did discover,  
My Prayers I near said over,  
I took my leave of Jesus Christ  
ere I came from St. Omer;  
Nought but Ghosts and Quarters,  
Of mangled Priests and Martyrs,  
Appears before my eyes at nights  
And men Tied up in Halters,  
For Peaching, and Teaching, &c,   

Farewell to White-Hall,  
Where Guards did me Attend all;  
And when they did not please me well,  
I wished 'em hanged and damned all,  
My Ten Pounds a Week too,  
'Zsounds now 'tis all Due,  
Fiend's and Furies help me Too't  
Or for the Plot i'll hang you:  
For Peaching, and Teaching;  
For Blasphemy and Preaching,  
I like a Rogue must Run away,  
And Damned for over Reaching.   
FINIS.   

LONDON, Printed for J. Dean, Bookseller in Cranborn-street, in Leicester-Fields, near Newport-House.