The Second Part of Saint George for England.  
To the Tune of, To drive the cold Winter away.  

NOw the Rump is confounded,  
There's an end, of the Roundhead,  
Who hath been such a bane to our Nation,  
He hath now played his part,  
And's gone out, like a fart,  
Together with his reformation,  
For by his good favour,  
He hath left a bad savour,  
But's no matter, we'll trust Him no more;  
Kings and Queens may appear  
Once again in our Sphere,  
Now the Knaves are turned out of door.  

And drive the cold Winter away.    

Scot, Nevil, and Vane,  
With the rest of that train,  
Are into Oceana fled,  
Sir Arthur, the brave,  
That's as arrant a Knave,  
Has harrington's Rota in's head,  
But he's now full of cares  
For his Foals, and his Mares,  
As when he was routed before:  
But I think he despairs,  
By his Arms, or his Prayers,  
To set up the Rump any more.  

And drive the cold Winter away.    

I should never have thought,  
That a Monk could have wrought  
Such a reformation so soon;  
That House, which of late  
Was the Jaques of our State,  
Will ere long, be a House of renown;  
How good Wits did jump,  
In abusing the Rump,  
Whilst the House was pressed by the Rabble;  
But our Hercules Monk,  
Though it grievously stunk,  
Now hath cleansed that Augcean-stable.  

And drive the cold Winter away.    

And now Mr. Prynne,  
With the rest may come in,  
And take their places again,  
For the House is made sweet,  
For those Members to meet,  
Though part of the Rump yet remain,  
Nor need they to fear,  
Though his Breeches be there,  
Which were wronged both behind and before,  
For he faith, 'twas a Chance,  
And forgive him this once,  
And he swears, he will do so no more.  

And drive the cold Winter away.    

'tis true there are some,  
Who are still for the Bum,  
Such Tares will grow up with the Wheat,  
And there they will be, till a Parliament come,  
That can give them a total defeat:  
But yet I am told,  
That the Rumpers do hold,  
That the Saints may swim with the tide;  
Nor can it be Treason,  
But Scripture and reason,  
Still to close with the stronger side.  

And drive the cold Winter away.    

Those Lawyers o'th' House,  
As Baron Wild-goose,  
With treason, Hill, Whitlock, and Say,  
Were the bane of our Laws,  
And our Good Old Cause,  
And 'twere well if such were away.  
Some more there are to blame,  
Whom I care not to name,  
That are Men of the very same ranks,  
'Mongst whom there is one,  
That to Devil bare-bone,  
For his ugly Petition gave thanks.  

And drive the cold Winter away.    

But I hope by this time,  
he'll confess 'twas a crime,  
To abet such a damnable Crew,  
Whose Petition was drawn,  
By Alcoran Vane,  
Or else by Corbet the Few:  
By it you may know,  
What the Rump meant to do,  
And what a Religion to frame;  
So 'twas time for St. George,  
That Rump to disgorge,  
And to send it from whence it first came, &c.  

Then drive the cold Winter away.    
Funis for the Rump's Finis.  
March 7 1659.