i thank you twice: Or, The City Courring their own ruin, Thank the Parliament twice, for their treble undoing.  

THe Hierarchy is out of date,  
Our Monarchy was sick of late,  
But now 'tis grown to an excellent state,  
Oh God a mercy Parliament.   

The Teachers know not what to say,  
The Prentices have leave to play;  
The people have all forgotten to pray,  
Still God a mercy Parliament.   

The Roundhead, and the Cavalier  
Have fought it out almost seven year,  
And yet (Methinks) they are never the near,  
Oh God &c.   

The Gentry are sequestered all,  
Our Wives you find at goldsmith's Hall,  
For there they meet with the devil and all,  
Still God &c.   

The Parliament are grown to that height,  
They care not a pin what his Majesty faith,  
And they pay all their debts with the public faith,  
Oh God &c.   

Though all we had here, is brought to nought,  
In Ireland we have whole Lordships bought,  
And there we shall one day be rich, 'tis thought,  
Still God a mercy &c.   

We must forsake our Father and Mother,  
And for the state, undo our own brother,  
And never leave murdering of one another,  
Oh God &c.   

Now the King is caught, and the devil is dead,  
Faireface must be disbanded,  
Or else he may chance to be Hothamed,  
Still God &c.   

They have made King Charles a glorious King,  
He was told (long ago) of such a thing,  
Now he, and his Subjects have reason to sing,  
Oh God a mercy Parliament,   
Mr. Fink. Mr. An. Dom, 1647.