A NEW-YEARS-GIFT FOR THE RUMP.  

YOu may have heard of the politic Snout,  
Or a tale of a Tub, with the bottom out,  
But scarce of a Parliament in a shisten clout.  
Which nobody can deny.   

'Twas Atkins first served this Rump in with Mustard,  
The sauce was a compound of Courage, and Custard;  
Sr. Vane blessed the Creature: Nollsnufled, and blustered.  
Which nobody can deny.   

The Right was as then, in Old Oliver's Nose,  
But when the Devil, of that did dispose,  
It Descended from thence, to the Rump, in the close.  
Which nobody can deny.   

Nor is it likely there to stay long,  
The Retentive faculties being gone,  
The Juggle is stale, and Money there's none.  
Which nobody can deny.   

The Secluded Members made a Trial  
To Enter, but them the Rump did defy all,  
By the ordinance of Self denial.  
Which nobody can deny.   

Our politic Doctors do us Teach,  
That a bloodsucking redcoat's as good as a Leech,  
To Relieve the Head, if applied to the Breech.  
Which nobody can deny.   

But never was such a warm as Vane;  
When the State scoured last, it voided him then,  
Yet now he's crept into the Rump again.  
Which nobody can deny.   

Ludiow's Fart, was a Ph●ophetique Trump:  
(There never was any thing so Jump)  
'Twas the very Type, of a vote of this Rump.  
Which nobody can deny.   

They say 'tis good Luck, when a Body rises  
With the Rump upward; but he that advises  
to Live in that Posture, is none of the wisest.  
Which nobody can deny.   

The Reason is worse, though the rhyme be Untoward,  
When things proceed with the wrong end Forward,  
But they say theirs sad news to the Rump, from the Nor'ward.  
Which nobody can deny.   

'Tis a wonderful thing the strength of that Part,  
At a Blast, it will take you a Team from a Cart;  
And Blow a man's Head away with a Fart.  
Which nobody can deny.   

When our Brains are sunk below the Middle,  
And our Consciences steered by the hay down Diddle,  
Then things will go round without a Fiddle.  
Which nobody can deny.   

You may Order the City with a Hand Granado,  
Or the General with a Bastonado,  
But no way for a Rump like a Carbonado.  
Which nobody can deny.   

To make us as famous in Council, as Wars,  
Here's Lenthal, a Speaker for mine—  
And Fleetwood is a man of Mars.  
Which nobody can deny.   

'Tis pity that Nedham's fallen into Disgrace,  
For he order a bum with a marvellous Grace,  
And aught to attend the Rump by his Place.  
Which nobody can deny.   

Yet this in spite of all Disasters,  
Although he hath Broken the Heads of his Masters,  
'Tis still his Profession, to give 'em all Plasters.  
Which nobody can deny.   

‛ Let 'em cry down the Pope, till their Throats are sore,  
Their design was to bring him in at the backdoor:  
For the Rump has a mind to the scarlet whore.  
Which nobody can deny.   

And this is a Truth at all hands confessed,  
However unskilful in any of the rest,  
The Rump speaks the Language of the Beast.  
Which nobody can deny.   

They talk that Lambert is like to be tried  
For Treason, and buggery beside,  
Because that he did the Rump bestride.  
Which nobody can deny.   

The Rump's an old story, if well understood,  
'Tis a thing dressed up in a Parliaments Hood,  
And like't, but the tail stands where the Head should.  
Which nobody can deny.   

'Twould make a man scratch, where it does not itch,  
To see forty Fools Heads in one politic Breech,  
And That,— Hugging the Nation as the Devil did the witch.  
Which nobody can deny.   

From rotten Members preserve our wives:  
From the mercy of a Rump, our Estates and our Lives:  
For they must needs go, whom the Devil Drives.  
Which nobody can deny.   
FINIS.