AN HEROIC POEM TO HIS Royal Highness THE DUKE of YORK, ON HIS RETURN FROM SCOTLAND. WITH Some choice SONGS and MEDLEYS ON THE TIMES.  
By MAT. TAUBMAN, Gent.  Hora. Ser. Sat. 3. 
Omnibus hoc Vitium est Cantoribus inter amicos,  
Ut nunquam Inducant animum cantare, Rogati,  
Injussi nunquam Desistant.—  
LONDON, Printed for John Smith in Russel-street, Covent-Garden, 1682   

THE PUBLISHER TO THE READER.  
Courteous Reader,  
THe Author of these few Songs, being much solicited for Copies, and not able to oblige all his Friends, was prevailed upon (for the ease of both) to allow them to be Printed with the Notes, which all Gentlemen that are desirous, may have at Mr. John Smith, Bookseller, his Shop in russel-street, Covent-Garden, together with the Bases, at reasonable Rates   

THE CONTENTS.  

POem, p. i.  
Medley on the Plot, Two Changes, p. 1.  
Medley on the Association, Five Changes, p. 3.  
Catch on the Succession, p. 8.  
Philander, p. 9  
The Dissolution at Oxford, p. 10.  
Old Jemmy, p. 11.  
The Healths, p. 12.  
York and Albany, p. 13.  
The Duke's Return from Scotland, p. 14.  
The Duke's Return after Shipwreck, p. 15.  
Great Jemmy, p. 16.  
A Pastoral, p. 17.  
Ossery, a Catch, Ibid.  
The Plot Unveiled, Three Changes, p. 18.    

TO THE DUKE, UPON HIS RETURN FROM SCOTLAND.  

STill with our sins, still with our furies crossed,  
The Royal Barge is on the Billows tossed.  
We raise the Storm: You must the Ionas be,  
That must appease the raging of the Sea.  
You, Sir, are both the heavens and Oceans care,  
Whose Gods in your protection claim a share;  
Who from devouring Deeps, as him before,  
Did in your life, our lives and hopes restore.  
So the fair Light once banished, does return,  
When with new Brightness crowned the Day is Born:  
Tho all the time that disapears, we might  
Much better say, we vanished are from Light:  
For that still guides the Day when it is here,  
And flies but to extend the Day elsewhere.  
As you, whom our poor Isle cannot confine,  
More than the Sun can in one Country shine,  
For the same cause can never Banished be,  
Contained in no one Land no more than Herald  
Even he, Descending from his Shining height  
With us, does rise in other Lands as Bright,  
And seeming to go down to this World's view.  
Retires, but is not Banished to the new.  
So you, no less than he, a Star too Great  
To rise for ever in one place, or set.  
In Sphere too noble, and of make too pure,  
For envious Mists for ever to obscure.  
If aught e'er seemed to intercept your Light,  
The Clouds ne'er darkened you, but hide our sight.  
Like heavens fair Ruler of the Day, as high  
Above all Clouds, as they above our Eye.  
Nor less than he a Royal Planet seem,  
Born to divided Empire too, like Him.  
Your Hemispheres in which you shine, have too  
Your Brother's ancient Empire, and its new:  
The Empire of his Race, which gave the Chair  
In which our Kings, when Crowned, now seated are.  
Even so long since some promise seemed to give,  
That thence in time we might our Kings derive:  
Gives us in you a sure support alone,  
Both of the Scottish Chair, and English Throne.  
Well did the ROYAL MARTYR  he fell  
To bind SUCCESSION, show his latest zeal;  
When Kissing GLOUC'STER he forbade all Claims  
To CHARLES his Sceptre and the Sword of JAMES.  
Be CHARLES his Sceptre ever sacred still,  
And be the Sword of JAMES invincible.  
May the young KING to mount my Throne prevail,  
May th' ADMIRAL in Battle never fail:  
Revolted Cities bend to th' PRINCE'S yoke,  
While Fleets and Armies wait upon the DUKE:  
His Lot to shine upon the Land, and be  
The other still to Thunder on the Sea.  
All this and more kind Heaven understood,  
Couched in your speechless Father's voice of Blood.  
For Wounds have Mouths which seem to gape and cry  
And in the voice of Blood was Prophecy.  
Propitious Heaven the Martyr's Cry has heard,  
A King's and Martyr's Cry deserves regard.  
Much to his Vows as the Event does show  
For their success the Royal Brothers owe.  
Our sovereign much for his Return must own,  
Meeting i'th' Arms of Peace a Bloodless Crown.  
Much you, maintaining to the Sea that Right,  
He o'er the Land had gained, without a Fight.  
For what alas had it availed to boast  
His Sceptre gained, had yet his Flagg been lost?  
And what a Maimed Monarch needs must be  
An Island King who is not Lord at Sea?  
In his Return Heaven no hands did need,  
Reserving that, for its peculiar deed.  
It's Act entire, as seeming to declare,  
None in the Honour of that work should share:  
That Kings may know on whom they must depend,  
Whose Gifts are Crowns, and whence they do Descend.  
And we due Reverence to our Kings may learn,  
Restored Divinely, as Divinely born.  
This Heaven performed, but left it to your Sword  
To Guard those Rights to which he was restored:  
Keeping in store this Honour, as your due,  
What it began should finished be by you.  
And teaching us where humane hands there need,  
To what a kind of Choice it does proceed:  
When suiting Instruments to Ends it draws  
The Brightest Sword still in the bravest cause;  
Appointing, and then Arming you for Fight,  
Who to the Seas Command by Birth had Right:  
Led by just Titles to as just a War,  
To reap those Honours, in which none could share.  
With double Courage armed, you then did show  
What a Great Leader, and good Cause could do.  
What the King's just Rights could at once require,  
Or we from th' hopes of your high Birth desire:  
When you the winged Hosts to Battle led,  
And in your Flying Chariot 'fore them rid,  
Bearing your Brother's Thunder by your side,  
And waving high his Flag, with lofty Pride,  
Thus high th' Ensign of his wronged Power to show,  
While that his Vengeance loudly? speaks below.  
Soon as the sovereign of the Seas did roar  
Prostrate they fell, who could not bow before.  
They knew his Voice, and to his Flagg submit,  
His Thunder own, and him that carried it.  
Tall Ships that with their Flags erect did ride,  
Hid in the Seas the Trophies of their pride.  
Low as the Deep their humble Topsails bend,  
And Wide as that their Ruins do extend:  
Such was the Fight as did the World convince,  
None but you were Born for the Crowns defence.  
And tho' it were not your high Charge by Birth,  
Your Merit to that place had called you forth;  
While you at once deservedly Unite  
The greatest Merit, and the Highest Right.  
What vast unbounded hopes may we conceive  
Who under such a pair of Brothers live?  
Happy! beneath this fair Conjunction born,  
Could we submit to th' Throne which they adorn.  
Where each so worthy is, Great CHARLES to Reign,  
And YORK to Triumph o'er the Conquered Main:  
A better KING than He no Land e'er knew,  
No Seas a braver ADMIRAL than you.    


Medley on the PLOT.  


DOWN, down Disco╌ve╌rerss, who so long have plotted  
with holy sham's to gull the Nation,  
both Peers and Prelacy they useless voted  
by the old Babes of Re╌for╌ma╌tion.  
Property's all their cry, Rights and Freedom,  
Law and Religion, they pull down,  
with old in╌te╌stine Lance to bleed 'em,  
from Lawn-sleeved Prelate to Purple Throne.   

II.  
Confound the Hypocrites, Birminghams' Royal,  
Who think Allegiance a Transgression,  
Since to oppose the King is counted loyal,  
And to rail high at the Succession.  
Monarchy's Tyranny; Justice, cruel;  
Loyalists, Tory and Rory Knaves;  
And Dagon Liberty's a Jewel,  
That we again may be Brewer's Slaves.    

Second Part.  

DRink, drink my Boys, since Plotting is in sea╌son,  
and none loyal deemed but bu╌sie Brats of Faction:  
Rome, Rome record no more thy ho╌ly Treason,  
we have those at home of more divine Extraction:  
We have Peers and Parsons, Smiths and Cooper's too,  
Carpenter's and Joiner's of the Reformation,  
all your Brood of cloister'd Jesuits outdo,  
to reduce to Duty a di╌vi╌ded Nation.   

II.  
Let whigs and Zealots dabble deep in Treason,  
And suck from the Spigot heavenly Revelations,  
We in the Glass will find more solid Reason,  
And our Hearts inflamed with nobler Inspirations,  
Let 'em boast of loyal Birminghams' and true,  
And with these make up their Kirk of Separation,  
We have honest Tory Tom, and Dick, and Hugh,  
Will drink on, and do more service for the Nation     

Medley on the Association.  


NOW Treasons haunt the Throne,  
and Faction sways the Town,  
Zea╌lotss, Rebels and Traitors re╌ple╌vin,  
honest Men they outbrave,  
they can no Justice have,  
what shall Loy╌a╌listss do for a Living,  
since 'tis a Crime to defend the Royal Cause,  
or the Laws,  
' 'gainst his Foes who enclose him,  
whilst still the gid╌dy-brained Mul╌ti╌tude,  
in their old terms so rude,  
dai╌╌ly do intrude  
with the Crowd to oppose him.   

II.  
What could the Commons mean,  
Impeaching Duke and Queen,  
But to govern the Nation without him?  
'Twas such a heinous thing,  
And Treason in the King,  
To keep Money or good Men about him  
Then they Petitions bring,  
To promote the thing,  
And make a Glorious King  
The old fashion:  
Whilst Lord and Bishop, State, Church and Throne,  
With all their Rites must down,  
To set up their new Babel of Reformation.    

Second Change.  

JOckey a╌way Man,  
Devil ha' me by the Lugier gi'en I will stay Man  
to be made sike a Rogue, Wonds a Geud, Sawney, gi'en thou wots well the thing,  
yance mere for money they'll gar thee sell thy King,  
so they did venture,  
banter,  
ranter,  
beth the new Whig and and Co╌ve╌nan╌ter,  
loved him, proved him,  
shoved him, moved him,  
till they gar head him, so well they loved him.   

II.  
But now at last 've got the removing on't,  
And till a Test have turned the Covenant,  
Muckle Devil have us, gi'en the Loons any mere  
Shall e'er bereave us of the right lawful Heir.  
Now Scotland's loyal,  
Joy all;  
Royal  
JEMMY our Head, the whigs we defy all.  
We mighted him, righted him,  
When England slighted him;  
Tan-ta-ra-ra-ra, now Lads we'll fight for him.    

Third Change.  

HA'! Fire, Fire! see the Clouds are frying,  
Sh╌y's acquitted,  
and the Flames ascending in Flakes of scorching Treasons,  
upwards flying against their King, against the Gods contending:  
These are the ho╌ly Triumphs of the Saints offending,  
when a damned Traitor escapes, that would his King revile;  
but let an honest Tory,  
to his Monarch's Glory,  
light but a Faggot, 'tis his funeral Pile.   

II.  
Poor Teig and Rory, who renewed the Story,  
Were Babes of Grace while swearing was in fashion,  
But when the Whig was charged by the true Tory,  
The joiner's flail did thresh them out o'th' Nation,  
Then all was Gospel-proof, and now all Subornation:  
Against old Coney perjured every Mother's Son.  
And now poor Teig and Rory,  
To his Nation's Glory,  
May plot at home, and sing O hone! O hone!    

Fourth Change.  

MOrbleu! the Monsieur's come,  
as if the Furies bore him,  
with Trumpet, Pipe, and Drum,  
to 'larm the World around,  
the dread of Chri╌sten╌dom:  
The Cannons loudly roar him,  
the devil will not presume  
' 'gainst him to stand his ground:  
The Spaniard, Dane, and Pole,  
submit to his Commanders,  
and does the Fates control  
in Germany and Flanders,  
till to complete the whole  
he makes them all No-Landers,  
whilst Fools with patience bear it, and the Loss condole.   

II.  
Secure in warlike Robe  
He rends the World asunder,  
He tramples o'er the Globe,  
And Monarch's truckle down.  
What factious plotting Foes,  
With hopes to keep him under,  
His Justice dare oppose?  
His Will's his Law alone.  
Shall I (says he) like Fool  
Be Hectored by the Rabble,  
When I was born to rule?  
Ha! foutra le Diable!  
I'll curb the headstrong Tool  
As long as I am able.  
Jerné! To give the Beast the Reigns, 'tis ridicule.    

Fifth Change.  

HArk! hark! England's Mighty Monarch's come, in the Rear approaches,  
he who daily loses ground at home while the Foe encroaches;  
he, he who rid in the Front of all the Princes,  
foremost in the Trenches,  
and for all their large pre╌ten╌ceses,  
did outstrip both the Flower of France, and Germane Eagles,  
the A╌cte╌on that never yet was overcome,  
but by his own Beagles.   

II.  
See, see, Great Monarch, how the Pack the old Game inveagles:  
Whilst the old Tribe of Forty One is still i'th' Nation,  
Plotting's a Vocation,  
Treason still will be in fashion.  
Lest we all truckle under the Association,  
Root out the whole Stock,  
Tony to the Block,  
To work a thorough Reformation.   
[In the second Verse, sing the first Part of the Tune but once over.]    

A Drinking CATCH.  

COME Boys fill up a Bumper,  
we'll make the Nation roar;  
She's grown sick of a Rumper,  
that ticks on the old score,  
' pox on Birminghams', rout 'em,  
they thirst for our Blood,  
we'll raise Tax╌eses without 'em,  
and drink for the Na╌ti╌onss Good.   

II.  
Charge the Bottles and Gallons,  
And bring the Hogsheads in,  
we'll begin with the tall ones,  
A Brimmer to the KING:  
Round, around, fill a fresh one,  
That no Man bauk his Wine,  
we'll drink to the next in Succession,  
And keep it in the Right Line.    

PHILANDER.  

A POX on the factious o' th' C C —y,  
for choosing two Presbyter Shr— s!  
alas! 'tis a great deal of pi╌ty,  
my heart for Philander grieves.  
He sent the Recorder of L— n,  
who by the Factious was run down;  
they are such Rogues,  
they wish us undone;  
hang up those Dogs,  
oh! Bil╌ly Scroggs.   

II.  
They tell us of Plots and of Wonders,  
To run Church and Monarchy down,  
Whilst still the loud Pa— nt thunders  
Against both the Mitre and Crown.  
The Co— ns to th' City are trotting amain,  
Where they sit plotting  
Who next shall reign,  
While we lie sotting;  
Charles to the Wain;  
Rogue 'em again.    

A SONG.  

NOW, now the Work's done, and the Par╌lia╌ment set,  
are sent back a╌gain like Fools as they met,  
to prove without change they were true to their Trust,  
they voted their Actions both legal and just;  
but on Rowley, who knew them, the Cheat would not pass,  
who cut off the Rump of the Po╌li╌tick Ass.   

II.  
Let S— b— y plot, and M— n— h contrive,  
And Waller lie buzzing like Drone in a Hive,  
Let fanatics fret on, and preach to the Crowd  
Sedition and Faction and Treason aloud;  
we'll drink off our Liquor to cherish good Blood,  
And in our King's Service we'll let out the Flood.    

Old JEMMY.  

OLD JEMMY is a Lad,  
right law╌ful╌ly descended,  
no Bastard born nor bred,  
nor for a Whig suspended:  
A Heart and Soul so wondrous great,  
with such a conquering Eye,  
that every loyal Lad would plead  
in Jemmy's Cause to die.   

II.  
Old JEMMY is a Prince  
Of noble Resolutions,  
Whose powerful Influence  
Can order our Confusions:  
But, oh! he fights with such a grace,  
No force can him withstand;  
No God of War but must give place  
Where Jemmy leads the Van.   

III.  
To Jemmy every Swain  
Does pay due veneration,  
And Scotland does maintain  
His Title to the Nation:  
The Pride of all the Court he stands,  
The Patron of his Cause,  
The Joy and Hope of all his Friends,  
The Terror of his Foes.   

iv  
And now, oh happy Pate!  
The Kirk has taught a Lesson,  
A Blessing on the State,  
To settle the Succession:  
They loyal were, both Knight and Lord,  
And will his Rights maintain,  
By Royal Parliament restored,  
Old Jemmy's YORK again.    

The HEALTHS.  

SINCE Plotting's a Trade, like the rest of the Nation,  
let 'em lie and swear on to keep up the Vo╌ca╌tion.  
Let Weavers and Turner's and Joiner's agree  
to find work for the Cooper, they'll have none of me.  
Let politic sham's in the Statesman a╌bound,  
while we quaff our Bumpers and set the Glass round:  
The jol╌ly Toper's the best Subject still,  
who drinks off his Liquor, and thinks no more ill.   

II.  
Here's a Health to the King and his lawful Successors.  
To honest Tantivies and loyal Addressers;  
But a pox take all those that promoted Petitions,  
To poison the Nation, and stir up Seditions.  
Here's a Health to the Queen and her Ladies of Honour,  
And a pox take all those that put Sham-plots upon her.  
Here's a Health to the Duke and Senate of Scotland,  
To all honest Men, who from Bishops ne'er got Land.   

III.  
Here's a Health to all those love the King and his Laws,  
And may they ne'er pledge it that broach the Old Cause.  
Here's a Health to the State, and a pox on the Pack  
Of Commonwealth-Canters, and Presbyter Jack;  
To the uppermost Pendent that ever did play  
On the highest Top-Gallant o'th' Sovereign o'th' Sea:  
And he that denies to the Standard to lower,  
May he sink in the Ocean, and never drink more.    

YORK and ALBANY.  

NOW, now the Zealots all must droop,  
the Synagogues shall down,  
and Truth and Loyal╌ty get up,  
the Pillars of the Throne.  
The whigs (who Loyal╌ty forsook)  
shall with one Voice agree,  
to welcome home the Mighty Duke  
of YORK and ALBANY.   

II.  
The wand'ring Dove, that was sent forth  
To find some Landing near,  
When England's Ark was tossed on Floods  
Of Jealousy and Fear,  
Returns with Olive-Branch of Joy,  
To set the Nation free  
From Whiggish Rage, that would destroy  
Great YORK and ALBANY.   

III.  
And may he with the Joys he wed  
For ever happy be,  
And live to crush the Serpent's Head,  
Whose Sting did pierce his Knee:  
Till Rebels tremble at his Name,  
And all the Land agree,  
The Rightful Interest to proclaim  
Of YORK and ALBANY.    

The DUKE's Return from Scotland.  

NOW the To╌rieses that glory  
in Royal Jemmy's Return,  
i'th' Tavern roar it and score it,  
your Caps and Bonnets burn.  
Let the Lads and the Las╌seses  
set foot to foot in their turn,  
and he that pas╌ses his Glasses  
may he never scape the Horn.  
Royal Jemmy is come again,  
there's for honest Men room again,  
the true Heir is come home again,  
Fools and Bastards we scorn,  
then heigh Boys laugh it, and quaff it,  
let whigs and Zealots mourn.   

II.  
Let Impeaches and Speeches  
Be with the Authors pulled down,  
And he that preaches or teaches  
Against the Heir o'th' Crown:  
No more the Jealous shall tell us  
Of the Succession o'th' Throne,  
Till the Rebellious, so zealous,  
His lawful interests own,  
Monarchy is got up again,  
Every Man take his Cup again,  
Till we make the Slaves droop again,  
Who our Peace would enthral;  
And every Rebel that libelled,  
Do at his Footstool fall.   

III.  
Then the Station o'th' Nation  
On Terms more honest will be▪  
Nor bold Oration in fashion  
To rail at Monarchy:  
The City Royal be loyal,  
And common Justice agree,  
T'avenge lost Heads on the Trial  
Of O— s and S— b— y:  
Then Dissenters shall aid the Throne,  
And Addressers persuade the Throne,  
'Gainst the Traitors invade the Throne:  
London Charter be free,  
And Ignoramus be famous  
For Truth and Loyalty.    

On the DUKE's Return after Shipwreck.  

TH'rough Tempests at Sea, thorough Tumults on Shore,  
the wand'ring bright Planet a╌gain is restored,  
still welcome, but ne'er more welcome before  
to all honest Men, who his absence deplored:  
We sighed in the Shade for the Sun we a╌dore,  
and now with fresh Incense our Altars run o'er.   

II.  
To the King and the Queen, to the Brim let it flow,  
The Duke and the Duchess shall have the next place,  
To the Royal Blew-Cap about let it go,  
The blooming fresh Blossom of the ancient Race:  
May he reign, and live ever to conquer his Foes,  
Who Monarchy hate, and its Rights dare oppose.   

III.  
But Pilot take care, and look to your Charge,  
Keep loof to the Wind, the Glass is run out,  
For if you want Depth you endanger the Barge,  
Then launch in the Ocean, and tack it about:  
If Quicksands or Shallows our Vessel withstood,  
To waft her off safe we will raise a new Flood.   

iv  
Then fill up, and see no Ebb in the Glass,  
For want of High-water the Ship run aground;  
Then if we must fall while he safely does pass,  
we'll in the full Tide of Allegiance be drowned:  
The Dog that dares bark while this Planet does shine,  
In a Thirst let him die, and in Darkness repine.    

Great JEMMY.  

HERE's a Health to the Man, that ne'er did op╌pose  
the King, nor his Interest, Council, nor Laws,  
Great JEMMY, that scorns to stoop to such toys,  
as the Noise of the Rabble, or Shouting of Boys:  
Great JEMMY, the Va╌l'ant, the Injured and Brave,  
the Di'mond that shines in the darksomest Cave.   

II.  
Crown every Glass with Laurel and Bays,  
Whilst we drink to his Health, and sing to his Praise:  
Then think on the Dutch, what Conquests did flow  
From that Springtide of Glories, to varnish his Brow:  
Then with one consent let's boldly declare,  
He's the Soul of our Peace, and the God of our War,   

III.  
Let's drink to the HERO who Scotland subdued,  
And brought to Allegiance the factious Crowd:  
Each Day may fresh Garlands his Temples adorn,  
As bright as the Day, and as fresh as the Morn:  
That Jemmy the Valiant, to Scotland's great praise,  
May shine like the Sun in the midst of his Rays.   

iv  
Away with it then, set the Bumpers about,  
His Enemies all may He put to the rout:  
Each snarling Fanatic may he hang down his Ears,  
Whose Malice created our Doubts and our Fears;  
That JEMMY the Great, with increase of good Days,  
May shine like the Sun in the midst of his Rays.    

A Pastoral SONG.  

IN fair Arcadian Plains  
Philander fed his Sheep,  
where safe in the Shade the Lambs undisturbed did sleep,  
young Strephon was chief amongst the Swains.  
'Twas then Phi╌lan╌der cried, ha' me! ha'! ha' me!  
What Insolence, what Pride did his Sen— ses steep?  
that thus the un╌hap╌py Boy should side with Wolves  
and Bears against the Shepherd and the Sheep.   

II.  
But charming Youth beware  
Thy projects are in vain,  
The wronged Celadon to the Flocks is returned again,  
Great Celadon, the Rightful Heir:  
Then Strephon, oh return!  
Oh! oh! oh! Return,  thou too late becomes a fatal prey,  
The pride, and unlamented scorn  
Of that devouring Herd that led thy Heart astray.   

III.  
Philander thus complained,  
But all alas! in vain;  
An old Serpent lurked in the Grass; the unwary Swain  
Sucked in the Charm, and the Sting remained:  
The poisoning Tap he drains:  
Alas! A-A-las! the deadly Draught that did so fatal prove,  
That since th' Enchanted Youth remains  
Than poisoned Adders deafer, and more blind than Love.    

Young JEMMY, a Catch.  
YOung Jemmy, the Blade of Royal Stamp, is blasted in the Case,  
The Fairies crept in, the Fairies, and left a Changeling in his place.  
The Spark, the Spark that fires the Nymphs, and the Sun that gilds the Plains:  
Then bring us more Wine, the Dog-star bites, more Wine to cool our Brains.  
Was ever poor Youth, was ever poor Youth so unhappily undone!  
H'as lost a Father, but who can say the Father has lost a Son?  
[You may sing this to what Tune you please, till we get a better.]   

OSSERY, a Catch.  
COunt OSSERY, and what of he?  
He beat out the French,  
out of their own Trench,  
then take off your Beer,  
and remember Mine Here;  
sing hay ho! for the poor Monsieur.   

The PLOT unveiled.  

DRaw, draw the Veil,  
the Plot's growing stolen,  
that has blinded three parts of the Nation.  
The Tap's on the Lees,  
and every Man sees  
through the Cask of the As╌so╌ci╌a╌tion.  
You brood on a Plot  
which Rome could not effect,  
though so long 'twas a hatching.  
This Stalk-horse you bring  
to shoot at the King,  
on the Game, while the Fowler is watching.   

WHat a pox do you mean?  
for to gull us again?  
with a specious pretence  
of Allegiance to your Prince,  
whilst to Loyalty each Man pretends,  
yet hates in his heart both the King and his Friends;  
both the King and his Friends.   

SUre he was a loy╌al Subject too,  
who cut off the King's Head, as well as you.  
So they called themselves then, and so do you now:  
For Religion and Conscience the Saints did it then,  
and you'd make no Conscience to do it a╌gain.   
[Sing the three following Stanza's to the Measure of the three foregoing.]  

Thus, thus you made  
Religion a Trade  
In City, and Country, and Village,  
Your Rights to maintain,  
And Freedom to gain,  
By Imprisoning, Plunder, and Pillage;  
With Fire and with Sword,  
Your All you secured,  
The Safety and Peace of the Nation;  
Whilst Sacrilege, and  
The Church to trapan,  
Was all the Religion in fashion.   

For shame then give o'er  
With your shamekin Tricks,  
To rail as before  
With your Goathams and Dicks,  
Whilst Poperies still the pretence,  
To stir up the Rabble against the true Prince,  
Against the true Prince.   

Is there Religion, Law, or Sense,  
In opposing Decrees of Providence?  
King's are her chief care, than Whigg is a thing  
Is a Rebel to his Maker as well as his King.   

CHORUS.  
THen since 'tis de╌creed by Pro╌vi╌dence,  
let's freely submit to its In╌flu╌ence,  
in the lawful Succession, and own the great Blessing,  
that Heaven hath re╌stored us the lawful Prince.    
FINIS.