〈◊〉 ●●●ellent New SONG: OR ●●e Loyal Tory's Delight.  
 


LOndon Lads be Merry,  
your Parliament-Friends are gean,  
Which made you all so merry,  
but never would let us alean;  
They peached us every ean,  
both Papist and Protestant too;  
Now they all for Tyburn run,  
and the De'l run with 'em I trow.    

II.  

Our Good K. Charles, Heaven bless Him,  
Protector of Albany's Right,  
Received from the House sike a Lesson,  
had like to set us at strife.  
But Charles he Swore by his Life,  
he'd ha' no mere sike a do;  
He packed 'em off by the Light,  
and the De'l gang with 'em I trow.    

III.  

There's Armstrong, and Jemmy the Cully,  
were muckle to blame, I read;  
And Shaftsbury that States-Bully,  
who awes the Factious Breed:  
And wittol Grey (gooddeed)  
who Pimped while his Wife did Mow▪  
And held the De'r for a need,  
how the De'l rewards him I trow.    

IV.  

De'l speed 'em Trencher and Hambden,  
foul Members of the Rotten Rump;  
And goggle-eyed Fly-catching Branden,  
his Head's grown all on a lump:  
And Oats the Socket o'th' Pump,  
his Mouth Close-Stool to the Saints;  
He Buggers his Man with the stump,  
while the whigs at Tyburn Cants.    

V.  

E'en Hang up the Three Bloody Brewers,  
that are in the Cupboard for Jack;  
For they can be no Sons of Whores,  
that drapt out of Oliver's Tap:  
They're all of the Green Ribbond Club,  
both Inglesby, Loveless, and Booth,—  
Reform all in a Tub;  
they'd better have been in a Stove.    

VI  

Then Breeman, an Old Rumping Round-Head,  
and Wildman with his Roaring Guns;  
By Rumsey all are confounded,  
both Forbus and Wood with their Funs:  
Four more, their Marshals and King,  
with one sweet Sister of Hope;  
They've left the smaller to Swing,  
while they're Converting the Pope.    

VII.  

There's Blunderbush, West, and such numbers;  
they Crowd all the Goals in the Town;  
They pray that the Turks may do wonders,  
and cut all the Christians down:  
Should I insist on their Shames,  
and sing till to Morrow at Noon:  
I'm as like to number their Names,  
as to make a Smock for the Moon,     

Printed for J. Dean, Bookseller in Cranborn- Street, in Leicester-Fields near Newport- House, 1683.