The whigs Lamentation, For or the Tap of Sedition.  
The Tap 'tis stolen, the Liquor fled  
Be joyful than the Devil's dead.  
LAment you whigs, you Presbyter Priggs, Your Godfather Tony is dead: Let Titus now, for Holland go, 'tis time that he was fled.  

Let Waller, Prance, and Pilkinton dance  
With all the Shreeval Knot,  
For the Devil hath stolen the Tapp away  
And the Cask it is quite run out.   

Let Quaking Jack, make up his pack  
And to Pensilvania hie,  
And the Sister hood, with all the brood  
Who Rail 'gainst Monarchy:  
For the Politic pate, once Member of state  
Is vanquished without doubt,  
Old Nick he hath stolen the Tap away  
And the Cask it is quite run out.   

Association once in fashion  
May be again preferred  
No Ignoramus, more shall shame us  
Tony is now interred:  
His rotten Cask is laid in clay  
Sedition under ground  
For the Devil hath hid the Tap away  
Where 'twill no more be found.   

Sallamank, Doctor, hast to the Proctor  
Thou art left his Heir  
Search thou his Will, find some new Bill  
That you afresh may swear,  
Find some new trick, to save thy neck  
For all your Plots are found  
The Devil hath stolen the Tap away  
And buried the Cask in the ground.   

Think of your Lies, false Perjuries,  
Swore swore Prince and Peers,  
Your damned deceits, and Wapping cheats  
Set the Nation by the Ears  
Oh now prepare, avoid a snare  
Lest thou art ketcht in the Pound  
For the Devil hath stolen the Tap away  
And laid the Cask under ground.   

Repent Whigs all, you down must fall  
And Loyal boys must rise,  
May all that plots, be hanged in knots  
Who do their King despise  
A health to the King, brave Albony  
And his Consort in the bed  
Then let us rejoice and merrily sing  
Hey boys the Devil's dead.   
FINIS.   

Printed for J. C. junior 1683.