THE LOYALIST Setting Forth the WHIG In his Own COLOURS.  
A New SONG, To the Tune of Sawny and Jockey.  

I.  
COme, fill it up, and give me a Brimmer Boy;  
Jammey's come home again, with him his Dearest Joy:  
Let's Quaff it round in spite of the Whiggish Crew,  
Jack Catch I hope at last will give the Devil his due.  
Let us true Loyal  
Subjects Joy all,  
In the Blood Royal without denial.  
True Hearted.  
Are Thwarted,  
— And oftentimes  
Parted:  
But never will start from their Principles Loyal.   

II.  
May Whiggish Designs, be always discovered,  
The Ills of these Times will then be recovered:  
Too lately they did Three Kingdoms Confound,  
And made them Drink Healths of their Blood on the Ground.  
For whilst the Nation  
Is wrought into Passion,  
By False Persuasion, Dissimulation:  
True Subjects will  
Suffer ill,  
And bear the Burden  
Still,  
Till Loyalty is once more out of Fashion.   

III.  
Let Old Trinomen have his due in the end,  
May G— and M— think him no more their Friend;  
Let them no longer give Ear to his Policy,  
For all his Cunning he may gain the Gallow-Tree:  
But let them fly him,  
No more come nigh him,  
With Penitent Sighing, always defy him.  
Let Coo— r  
Have fair Play,  
C●re, Curtiss,  
Janeway;  
Jack Gatch can teach them the true way of dying.   

IV.  
Why should false Zeal expose us to Evil,  
Where Out-sides's all Saint, and Insides' all Devil;  
For thus it has proved e'er since Reformation,  
When Presbyter Sways, Kings are out of Fashion:  
Too late it was their Cry,  
Let him die, Popery  
Will through the Kingdom flee, stand for the Cause Boy:  
We the Land  
By our Hands,  
Will Command  
Who Withstands,  
Shall for a Traitor unto the State die.   

V.  
Thus when the Zealots the Power had got,  
True Subjects Estates, nay Lives went to Pot:  
Then all were Rebels that Fought for their King,  
And Damned Sequestration was then the next thing:  
Choose, cries the City,  
A Zealous Committee,  
To Cavaliers grant no manner of Pity:  
The Old Cause,  
Destroys Laws,  
Hangs, Draws  
For Old Saws:  
And this was Poor England's late Presbyter Ditty.   

VI  
Then let us beware of a second relapse,  
Long Live the King and York, cast up your Caps:  
Let us endeavour to preserve the Nation  
From Subtle Devices, Bills, Associations,  
Then let 'em Plot on,  
Let on, Pot on;  
In their Cabals Boys, still let 'em Sot;  
Let's Watch 'em,  
And Catch 'em,  
Dispatch 'em,  
Rope Stretch 'em;  
Vive le Roy, Then let the Pox Rot 'em.    

London, Printed for C. Tebroc, Anno Dom. 1682.