The Whigs in Mourning For the Loss of Their CHARCTER.  
To the Tune of, Let the Whigs repine, and all combine, etc.  
 

I.  
LEt the snarling Whig  
Ne'er look so big,  
Nor once pretend to mutter;  
Now their Charter's gone,  
They sigh and moan,  
And keep a woundy clutter:  
Hanging down their pensive ears,  
They mourn the sad disaster  
That filled their heads with causeless fears  
Of Royal CHARLES their Master.   

II.  
Let their cursed PLOT  
Be quite forgot  
And their damned ASSOCIATION;  
Let their minds be bend  
To circumvent  
The Toneys of the Nation:  
To Juistice bring all canting Rogues,  
Who teach the Rabble Notions,  
And at Tyburn let the Dogs  
Pay all their last Devotions.   

III.  
Let's all rejoice,  
That Whig D— is  
And P—ion are detected,  
That their Whiggish mayor,  
Who'd usurp the Chair,  
Was shamefully rejected:  
Patience teach you to beware  
Of Perjury and Treason;  
Hang up Baldwin, Curtis, Care,  
Since 'tis but Law and Reason.   

IV.  
Let Robin swear,  
And Tommy stare  
Like men bereavest of sense  
Let Hu— and strut,  
And Je— ll fret,  
For their loss, and vast expenses:  
Let damned Titus bounce and crack,  
And swagger like a Carter,  
Throw the Knaves upon their backs  
That took away the CHARTER.   

V.  
Let the Whiggish Fops  
Shut up their Shops,  
And then commit a Riot;  
But I'd advise  
The Cits be wise.  
And study to be quiet.  
Curses ever more attend  
Their arbitrary actions,  
Hemp and Faggot put an end  
To all their Feuds and Factions.   

VI  
But alas! the Saints  
With sorrow faint,  
To see this fatal minute,  
And curse too late  
That Imp of State  
That brought the CITY in it.  
Settle left 'em in the nick  
Of all their tears and sorrpw,  
And when he saw the Cause lie sick,  
He bid the Whigs good morrow.   

VII.  
When the Trimmer meets,  
A Whig, he greets  
Him with this dreadful story;  
Quoth he, Not far  
From Temple-bar  
I heard a wicked TORY  
Drinking our new CHARTERS, health,  
('Tis true, as God shall sa ' me,)  
Wishing those no Joy nor Wealth,  
That love not CHARLES and JEMMY.   
FINIS.   

LONDON: Printed for Patrick True, 1683.