A NEW SONG Between Whig and Tory.  
To the Tune, Some say the Papists had a Plot.  Tory. 

I.  
WHat Cheer poor foul mouthed Whig what Cheer?  
Come rouse thy Snivelling Cant,  
What quite Crest fallen within this Year,  
Are Sham-plots grown so Scant,  
Thy whining fleers foretells thy Fate,  
Thy Splaymouthed Chaps Divine,  
Jack Catch has Squared out thy Date  
And Tyburn for thy Shrine.   Whig. 

II.  
Undone, Condemned and Dam'd, and all,  
Too late now to Rebel,  
The Sport's all spoiled since Dagon's Fall,  
His Taps consumed in Hell.  
Our new Cabals, and Polish Kings  
Of Select Knaves and Fools,  
Our Intrigues to Destruction brings  
With our Fanatic Souls.   Whig. 

III.  
Arresting the King's Magistrates,  
Exposed our Great Designs,  
The Nation knows the Rabble waits  
On Rebels at such times.  
The City Charter void of Cure  
We're stripped of all our hopes,  
Of making Kings by Broom-staff Power,  
And every Year New Popes.   Tory. 

IV.  
Faith Whig join all the Knights o'th' Post,  
And to your Martyrs Pray,  
That they'll bring Hell and all its Host  
For to regain the Day.  
Judge Bradshaw, Hewson, College bold,  
Fitz-Harris and such Saints,  
Since you with such Infernals hold,  
They may repair your wants.   Whig. 

V.  
Let Fiends and Furies take their course,  
By Hobbs I dare not pray,  
For when I think on God by force  
More Sacred Souls than they.  
Blood Spangled Ghosts of Innocents'  
Which fright me from their Sight,  
And leaves me guilty in a Trance  
Of the Eternal Night.   Tory. 

VI  
Then please thyself with what is past,  
When none durst call thee Knave,  
That short Arst-Rump at Oxford last,  
What Power to Rogues they gave.  
The Sociations great Success  
'Gainst York, what Whelps appeared,  
The glorious drift of your Address  
from Crippled Tony's Beard.   Whig. 

VII.  
Confound all thoughts of Glories past,  
We'll still New Plots contrive,  
Though M— fields Letter flew too fast  
To let that Sham-Plot thrive.  
In Mischief we will still delight  
To plague the Peace and Crown,  
Embracing all things but the Right,  
Till Vengeance press us down.    

LONDON, Printed for J. Dean, 1683.