THE NOBLE ENGLISH WORTHIES.  

'tIs not Saint George we Sing of here,  
Nor George, the fatal Duke Villier;  
Nor George a Green, nor Castriot,  
Nor Buchanan the learned Scot;  
But 'tis of George the Valiant Monk,  
That made Van-Trump in's Blood dead-drunk,  
And in the Seas his Navy sunk.  
Oh! this is our brave George!   

He made the Dutchmen vale their Topps,  
And humble be, as their Sack-slops;  
The English Fleet he did advance,  
To th' terror of Proud Spain, and France;  
And when amongst the Scots he came,  
He did their furious Spirits tame;  
For which ere since all love his Name.  
Oh! this is our brave George!   

Renown by Sea and Land he got,  
Old Noll for him would do what not;  
There's none ere boded him ill-will,  
That valour had, or martial skill;  
This is the Noble General,  
Who fights to rescue us from thrall,  
And that we may be freemen all.  
Oh! this is our brave George!   

Such gallant Worthies are most rare;  
Yet many more at Portsmouth are,  
Noble Sir Arthur Haselrigg,  
Resolves to lead a Scottish gig,  
With Morley, Walton, Wallop, and  
Renowned Whetham, whose command  
For all our Liberties do stand,  
As well as our brave George!   

Sir Ashley- Cooper, Scot, and more  
Such honest hearts there are good store;  
The famous Lawson, and the Fleet,  
And London Lads in every Street;  
Who vow to make Subvertors stare  
At Tyburn in the open air,  
For doing what no King did dare:  
And thus vows our brave George!   

The honest soldiers, (though some be sadly misled) resolve to see  
The Parliament restored again,  
And run away to Monck amain;  
Who pays them well, as well they may  
Expect; for Lambert has no pay;  
And thus the news is every day  
In honour of brave George!   

Hacker, and other men resolved  
Deny the Members are dissolved,  
Though their Apostatising Brothers  
Pretend to be more wise than others;  
But when their folly re-appeares,  
And their ill-fortune, like those years  
When NOLL steeped all the Land in tears,  
Then hay! for our brave George.   

The Writs for a New Parliament,  
Are to return the way they went;  
For no Elections can be made,  
In freedom, whilst the cobbling trade  
Can Vamp, set up, or them translate;  
And this necessity of State  
(As wise men say) breeds all the Bate.  
And thus says our brave George.   

The noble City will be wise,  
And their sweet Liberties dear prize;  
Religion, laws, and freedom are,  
The Stakes for which all parties dare:  
But yet our better hopes appear,  
Against the New approaching year,  
We shall be quited all from fear,  
By the help of our brave George.   

Let them that please, sit still at ease,  
Whilst Heaven in mercy send us peace;  
But may our noble Worthies be  
Successful in their Policy;  
That order may return again,  
In Church and State, and right may reign,  
And all Subvertors have their pain:  
And God bless our brave George.    

LONDON, Printed by Tho. Milbourn, and are to be sold at his House in Jewen-Street, 59