A New BALLAD from WHIGG-LAND.  
To the Tune of, Heigh Boys up go We.  

BRave Monmouths out of Favour now,  
The Lord knows what's the Cause;  
I think, no one can justly say,  
He has transgressed the Laws:  
But yet the TORIES cry him down,  
Old Tony and Young Grace;  
By this in time they'll gain Renown,  
But the clean contrary way.   

Stout Monmouth fought Rebellious Scots,  
And brought them on their Knees,  
He made the stubborn Necks to stoop  
Of Men of all Degrees;  
But Bothwel-Bridge is now forgot,  
And Mastricht's Storm they say,  
And his honour's like to go to th' Pot,  
But the clean contrary way.   

He kept the PAPISTS all in Awe,  
Though now they strut like JAYS;  
They value neither Him nor Law,  
I speak it to their Praise;  
But yet I hope the time will come,  
By Night or else by Day,  
When all his Foes shall gain their Ends,  
But the clean contrary way.   

ABHORRERS are the Blades of Fame,  
The Glory of the Land,  
They hate his Actions and his Name,  
And at defiance stand;  
They trample on his Noble Acts,  
And truly well they may,  
For they are Mounting up we find,  
But the clean contrary way.   

The Papists now do gain their End,  
Whilst Monmouth is run down,  
They seek to get their Popish Friend,  
Possessed o'th' English CROWN:  
But let them PLOT a thousand times,  
Their PLOTS will fail, I'll lay;  
I hope indeed they'll Mount the Throne,  
But the clean contrary way.   

Where will ABHORRERS hide themselves  
When th' Parliament draws near?  
L'Estrange, and THEY, and Thompson too,  
Will Hide themselves I fear,  
They'll fly like Chaff before the Wind  
For all their fine Array,  
They all will be preferred you'll find,  
But the clean contrary way.   

Brave Monmouth now is laid aside,  
As useless to the KING;  
But yet it must not be denied,  
He made the Nation Ring;  
He was the Glory of this Land,  
Next to the King, I say,  
But now it seems he has Command,  
The clean contrary way.   

Bad times will hardly mend I doubt,  
If PAPISTS come in Power;  
The POPE will have another bout  
Our Nation to devour;  
And we may sink beneath his Yoke,  
And all become his Prey,  
We may well look to Rise by Him,  
But the clean contrary way.   

But GOD Preserve out KING so long,  
Till we secure our Peace;  
Then we may Sing a Thankful Song,  
When all our Discords cease;  
But whilst the Papists soar aloft  
How can we Sing or Play  
Ah lass our Comforts come to us,  
But the clean contrary way.   

Should Monmouth fall Our Hopes would fail  
Of Comfort and of Aid,  
The PAPISTS think they might prevail  
In their Old PLOTTING Trade;  
But let him Live to Vex them still  
And lodge them all in Clay,  
And let them find their Glory Rise,  
The clean contrary way.   

The Quakers now are Crammed in Goals,  
Because they will not Swear,  
The Presbyter and Baptists too,  
And Independant's here,  
Because they will not go to Church  
With Common-Prayer to Pray,  
It seems the Law must make them Rich  
The clean contrary way.   

T●n Thousand Protestants we find  
Are whigs esteemed now,  
And all because they do not Mind  
At ALTARS for to Bow,  
If Papists Mount, than they must Fall  
For all they look so Gay,  
And they must Rise both Great and Small  
The clean contrary way.   

But Heavens Protect our Sacred King,  
And send a PARLIAMENT,  
And then true Protestants may Sing  
And have their full Content;  
The TORY Tribe will then be known  
And for their Roguery pay,  
And the POPE shall once more gain his O●n  
The clean contrary way.   

No Doubt the Popish Tribe will say,  
A WHIG did mak●●his Song,  
By all that's good, I go●● Church,  
They do my Muses wrong,  
But he's an Ass, will go to Mass  
To hear the Asses Bray,  
And he to Heaven in time will pass,  
The clean contrary way.    

LONDON, Printed for N. Whigg, 1682.