Thompson Tell-lyes. OR An Answer to Titus' Telltruth,  
To the Tune of, Hail to the Myrtle Shades.  

[1]  
HAil to the Devil and Pope.  
To Lestrange and the rest of the Town,  
To the Tories who vainly do hope  
To see Protestants tumbling down;  
To Lestrange who has covered the Plot  
As much as a Knave could do,  
All hail to that Scribbling Sot,  
Who doth to the Romans bow;   

[2]  
Hail to the Protestant not,  
And hail to his Fulsome Dame,  
Hail to that Popish Brat  
That bespatters our Church's same.  
Hail to that Knave in grain,  
That never did good in his life,  
All hail to that Murderous Cain,  
Who with Godfre's Ghost is at strife.   

[3]  
These Villains do Titus despise,  
They make him the bane of the Town,  
They are broaching ten thousand lies  
'Bout his Salamancha Gown;  
They Curse him for saving the Land,  
And are plotting his same to destroy,  
Till Jack Catch takes such Rascals in hand  
Our peace we shall never enjoy.   

[4]  
They call him a shred of a Loom  
They call him an Orthodox beast  
They Stile-him the Curse and the Doom  
Of the Layman as well as the Priest,  
Both Papist and Presbyter too;  
Oh how do these lies agree?  
Sweet not I'll be judged by you,  
Unfold me this Mystery.   

[5]  
Oh Titus how have we abused  
Thy kindness and love to this Land?  
Our safety how have we refused?  
How naked and bare do we stand?  
We give way to the Plotters apace  
Those that save us we go to destroy,  
Oh! where is our wisdom and grace?  
How can we our comfort enjoy?   

[6]  
Titus the light of the Town  
They call Thee, (and well they may)  
But Banks that Papistical Clown  
Calls Thee so in a jeering way;  
He calls Thee, the scorn of the Court,  
Oh! pity it should be so:  
What catle do thither resort  
By abusing of Thee we may know.   

[7]  
It galls them tothth' heart we perceive  
That against any Popish Lord  
Our Nobles should Titus believe,  
They grieve that he was not abhorred.  
They fret because Stafford, did die,  
And that Shaftsbury yet is a live,  
See where their Religion doth lie  
Crammed up in a Popish Beehive.   

[8]  
Titus did swear a pace  
Against some that he never saw,  
What man has the brazen face  
To say he Transgressed the Law?  
King, Council and Parliament, all  
Believed him we plainly see,  
Those that do not I wish they may fall  
By a Rope from the Triple Tree.    

LONDON Printed for G. Parker.