The turn of Time, OR, The Period of Rebellion Dedicated, to the infamous Members late Sitting at Westminster.  

1.  
NOw now, your gone I vow,  
and all your treasons blasted.  
Vengeance no longer will allow  
what seven years hath lasted.  
Then shut up shop, and take your heels,  
and with all speed away.  
Pride, totters, and Rebellion reels;  
hay for Utopia.   

2.  
Your damned plots, and jealousies,  
your schisms, and your fears,  
Your Oaths and your conspiracies  
Apparently appears.  
Then put to Sea, avoid delay  
for CHARLES, must once more reign.  
You are but dead if that you stay,  
or ere return again.   

3.  
there's some that say; you went away  
because a stinking vault,  
Beneath your House of mischief lay;  
O privy! much in fault,  
To drive away so rare a crew  
by thy most noisome smell.  
In pilgrim's weeds we will thee view,  
no lakes, but holy Cell;   

4.  
But sie no, it is not so,  
no excrement could drive  
The Saints from their Seraglio,  
who for a crown durst strive.  
It was the fear, of CHARLES, return,  
that sent the Members packing.  
The triple tree, they feared to see;  
they hate the thought of racking.   

5.  
Since you intend; ne'er to depend,  
a Presbeterian mule;  
Bridled, and Saddled doth attend,  
a bonny blue Capt fool.  
Will lackey by you, till you come,  
within the sight of 
* a City in the heart of Scotland.  Scone,  
Where Mahomet's Elysium,  
you shall possess alone.   

6.  
O rare! methinks, the devil winks,  
and all the powers below;  
Are puzeled, Machiavel he thinks,  
his sons, do stupid grow.  
And Cattaline is angry much,  
that traitors worse than be:  
Should fall when as, their hopes were such;  
with Nimrod, great to be.   

7.  
Now all your plots, joined with the Scots,  
Do not the least avail you;  
For why, these hardy Northern fots,  
Mean shortly to assail you.  
Their high Sanhedrim angry are,  
Their cobblers, and sowgelders,  
Must not the sweets of England share;  
and be adopted, Elders.   

8.  
Nor is this all, like to befall;  
beave Poyer's Myrmidons,  
Resolved are, for burial,  
like Mars, his dearest sons.  
And to the death for to oppose,  
your traitorous commands  
They swear 'tis fit, you should not fit  
while Pembroke, Castle stands.   

9  
Your most adulterated Church  
the Synods prostitute,  
You now alas leave in the lurch,  
for marshal, is grown mute;  
Her vitiation, we deplore,  
her sorrow is our truth.  
But shortly we will her restore,  
to her first form, and truth.   

10.  
This most unexpiated sin,  
will sure your ruin be;  
And sink you all for what hath been,  
to hell's profundity.  
Medea like to cure our ill,  
our age for to renew.  
You did our ancient order kill,  
and yet we want, a new.   

11.  
While you your Babel do erect,  
in one hand there's a sword;  
Your enterprise for to protect,  
by all men so abhorred.  
And in the other hand you bear  
a trowel stones to lay;  
But now the walls, you never rear,  
your workmen want their pay.   

12.  
While that the King, was governing,  
ere your damned treasons was.  
Loyalty was a golden thing,  
and England walled with brass.  
But we are now, of nothing sure,  
but Blasphemies and errors.  
And are in nothing now secure,  
but that we know, our terrors:   

13.  
Cheer up again, dread sovereign,  
now locked up in a cage.  
Behold to set thee up again,  
in Warlike equipage.  
All England ready are to rise;  
the Scots too, needs will fight.  
And for the time to come be wise,  
ne'er more resign thy right.   

14.  
And Hammond, thou Egyptian Dog;  
thou monster of mankind,  
Thou worse than a Molostain Hog,  
who bearest a Judas mind.  
Prepare thyself, to die a death,  
no traitor ever knew.  
By tortures to resign thy breath,  
in all the people's view.   

15.  
His majesty, thy livery,  
upon his eye doth wear;  
Both black and blue, beaten by thee,  
O devil! void of fear,  
His fate is poor, two varlets base,  
Do only on him wait.  
O direful execrable case!  
is this King CHARLES his Fate.   

16.  
But Harry Martin laughs at this,  
and Say doth say 'tis well.  
Cromwell, esteems it his chief bliss,  
of Hammond's guise, to tell.  
Tom Fairfax, swears this makes for him,  
Ranisborow skips for joy,  
And Barkstead, drinks bowels to the brim,  
Healths, to the King's annoy.   

17.  
But Martin now, thy fate I vow,  
is very near at hand.  
What strength, the pocks will thee allow,  
which hath eat up thy land.  
And shortly, will thy body too;  
now summon up to save thee.  
Else Gregory, will claim his due  
and then the devil have thee.   

18.  
And Nol, thy end, is ne'er at hand,  
thy kingdom is departed.  
Thou must no longer rule the land,  
but as a Rogue be Carted.  
And by a carman's blessed guide,  
visit the fatal tree.  
Then there's an end of all thy pride,  
and thy base treachery.   

19  
Ye twins is mischief Say, and Tom,  
two rebels, chiefest in action;  
To pluck King CHARLES, his glory from,  
and so support your faction.  
Behold a Sledge, an Axe, and fire,  
a hangman, ready too.  
Stands ready to give you your hire,  
who all ills, durst to do.   

20.  
And Rainsborow, thy reign is our,  
great admiral at Sea,  
It were a sin thy fall to doubt,  
O Skipper! of Degree.  
And Barkstead, thou ere long alas;  
Whitehall, must yield perforce,  
Great Kings ne'er built that stately mass,  
to shelter foot, and horse.   

21.  
The turn of time, we now have seen  
Rebellion's, on the ground;  
While we cry God save King and Queen;  
let Drums, and Trumpets found.  
Let all the people now sing loud  
in mirthful joyous sort.  
Hang all the Parliants base crowed  
but God preserve the Court.   
FINIS.