The city's thanks to Southwark, for giving the Army entrance.  

We thank you more than we will say,  
But 'tis the clean contrary way.   

We thank you Neighbours for your love  
For sending for the Army,  
Which cannot prejudicial prove,  
Alas, they'll never harm ye.  
Nor to the City will they do  
But what is good and fair,  
They will help all the suburbs too,  
When frogs fly in the air.  
You clowns and fools that nothing know  
But are made for the slaughter,  
By you ou● fears do daily grow  
we'll fit you for theereafter.   

Did ever men before like you,  
Send for their bane unto them  
And court their presence, whom they knew  
Would but at best undo them?  
And give possession of their works  
To those whose undertakings  
Show they will force men like the Turks  
To serve Gods of their makings.  
You knaves and dolts that &c.   

May those that on the Thames do plow  
And unto our side ferry  
Break oars and arms as they do row  
And each man split his Wherry.  
May the huge Porpoise swallow them,  
And near, like Jonas, shore them,  
And may their sins still follow them,  
And dead, no man deplore them.  
You skabs and varlets nothing &c.   

Dee think the Army will regard  
Men that are so perfidious,  
And not at length give you reward  
That shall be home and hideous?  
They wisely do the treason love,  
But yet the traitor's hate,  
And may you them to mercy move  
When it shall be too late.  
You lumpish Elves that &c.   

Did we make you our trusties, to  
Do as you thought fitting,  
And did we give our lives to you  
Unto ourselves unwitting?  
If not, how durst you be so bold  
Our foes for to invite  
And with them treaty for to hold,  
Ere we thought requisite?  
Ye traitorous gulls &c.   

May boisterous Thames swell high with rage  
And cause an inundation,  
Which nothing but your lives may suage,  
Let Boreas take his station  
Upon your houses, and with them  
Into the River sweep you,  
Where slaves to Neptune's Diadem  
May he for ever keep you.  
Ye cravens that do &c.   

And what now have you galnd, since that  
You did that sordid action,  
You may expect we know not what  
In way of satisfaction?  
But shall we tell you what it is  
That we for thanks intend you?  
We know you for our foes in this,  
And let the devil mend you.  
Ye sordid coxcombs who nought know &c.   

Alas, you wanted those would swill  
And drink your hogsheads dry,  
That made you have so good a will  
To send for the Army.  
They paid you ready money then,  
But they'll do so no more,  
We owe you, and time will be when  
We will wipe off our score.  
You scoundrels that do &c.   

Now to conclude we give you thanks  
For that your kind intention,  
And those many other pranks  
Which now we will not mention.  
And we assure you when time serves,  
We amply will requite you,  
Even as it at our hands deserves,  
But so as it shall spite you.  
And so ye Rogues that nothing know,  
But are made for the slaughter,  
We shall to you your own play show▪  
And fit you for't hereafter.   
FINIS.