A TORY in a Whig's Coat: A New English BALLAD,  
To an Old Scotch Tune, Up with Ayley, etc.  

[1]  
WHat! still ye Whigs uneasy!  
Will nothing cool your Brain,  
Unless Great Charles, to please-ye,  
Will let ye drive his Wain?  
Then up with P— and O—,  
And up with Knaves a pair;  
But down with him that Votes  
Against a Lawful Heir.   

[2]  
Your Grievance is removed,  
Old Stafford's made a Saint,  
Though you but little proved,  
The Churl away is sent.  
Then up with all your spite,  
And show us what you mean;  
I fear me, by this Light,  
Ye long to vent your Spleen.   

[3]  
That Peerless House of Commons,  
So zealous for the Lord,  
Meant (piously) with some on's  
To flesh the Godly's Sword:  
Then up with au the Leaven,  
With each Dissenting Loon,  
Then up with Bully Stephen;  
But College is gone done.   

[4]  
What would those Loons have had?  
What makes 'em still to mutter?  
I think thy're au go mad,  
They keep so muckle clutter:  
Then up with P— and S—,  
Another Blessed Pair;  
And up with ev'ry Brute;  
But chiefly Goatham's Mayor.   

[5]  
Our Salamanca-Priest  
Has left his Flock in haste;  
And shrewdly is he missed;  
Which makes us all aghast:  
Then up with Lads of worth,  
With Baldwin, Vile and Care;  
For these must now hold forth,  
And Dick shall nose a Prayer.   

[6]  
But is awr Parson gone;  
And whither gone I trow?  
What, back again to Spain?  
Geud Faith e'en let him go:  
Then up with blundering S.  
The Tories Plague, I trow;  
'Tis he our Cause must bless  
With Characters, and so.—   

[7]  
But scurvy Heraclitus,  
And Roger too, is rude,  
And not, who plagues poor Titus,  
Which makes us chew the Cud:  
Then up with Associations,  
Remonstrances and Libels;  
'Tis these must save Three Nations,  
And will preserve our Bibles.   

[8]  
The Polish Fox does seem  
To sleep his time away;  
But his pernicious Dream  
Is (only) to Betray:  
Then up with How. the Mole,  
And many more that be;  
But up with Little Pole  
Upon the highest Tree.   

[9]  
Hieraclitus is a Debtor,  
To some within the City,  
Who sent him sike a Letter,  
He'll pay them in a Ditty:  
Then up with au Dissenters,  
Up with 'em in a Cart:  
And up with him that ventures  
His Majesty to thwart.   

[10]  
But now Great YORK is come,  
(Whom Heaven still be with)  
You'll find (both all and some)  
'Twas ill to show your Teeth:  
Then up with ev'ry Round-head,  
And ev'ry Factious Brother,  
You're Luck is now confounded,  
Ye au must up together.    

LONDON, Printed for Allen Banks, Anno Domini. 1682.