L— GLEY C— S His Lamentation in Newgate; Who lies there in danger of his Ears for Printing and Publishing Sedition and Treason, for this Five Years last passed. A SONG.  
 

I.  
COME Whigs out of fashion, of me take compassion,  
my Ears are in danger, my case may be yours;  
Long, long have I reigned disturbing the Nation,  
now, now am made Captive to the higher Powers:  
With Packet & Pamphlets, abused Church & Chaplets,  
With C—s Damned Courants did abuse the King so,  
That none can defend us, till Tyburn befriend us,  
and send us a Hunting for Tapskie below.   

II.  
The loss of our Charter, and College the Martyr,  
his flails are all seized, and our Arms made a prey;  
We have lost Ignoramus, both Jew, Turk, and Tartar,  
no Plots nor Cabals to recover the Day:  
Since Tony left squinting, our Cause has been sinking,  
and our Party for Tyburn advancing you know;  
There's none can defend us, till Tyburn befriend us,  
and send us a Hunting for Essex below.   

III.  
The Law for a Livery, will put me i'th' Pillory,  
a damned hard Wooden Ruff for a Saint of the Cause;  
Had a Tory my place, I would flear and look merrily,  
with hardened Brick-batts I'd pelt him with blows.  
When my Head peepeth thorough, the Tories will hollow,  
at poor L— gley C— is cry O Raree Show;  
Now none will defend us, till Tyburn befriend us,  
and send us a Hunting for Russel below.   

IV.  
Poor Colly was Whipped too, for stretching an oath or so,  
and Damned Tory Rutland, too hard for us all;  
These daily misfortunes will all our Designs undo,  
would his Founain-Tavern would sink, burn, or fall.  
But alas I am Gailed, and must not be bailed,  
as we served the Papists, must we be served so?  
There's none will defend us, till Catch does befriend us,  
and send us a Hunting for Walcot below.   

V.  
Would I were with Patience, I'd keep in his Stations,  
and save both my Ears, for the Doctor may want,  
I fear they'll be crapt if I live till next Sessions,  
then Prance for his Swearing, may sweat and look blank,  
But after a Choler, oft cometh a Halter,  
my Neck like my Ears are in danger, you know,  
There's none can defend us, till Catch doth befriend us,  
and send us a Hunting for Sidney below.   

VI  
Poor A—ld is Pounded, for Lying Confounded,  
by Wooster, which he did most basely defame:  
Poor Giles he was Pillared, 'cause A—ld was wounded,  
tho' by his own hands, Sir, in Jack-an-Apes-Lane;  
Now Giles he is Bailed, and A—ld is Goaled,  
there may lie and Rot too, for aught that we know:  
There's none will defend us, till Catch doth befriend us,  
and send us all headlong tothth' Old Rump below.   

VII.  
Mowbery and Balderen, Swore more like Fiends, than men,  
they both have been perjured ten thousand times o'er:  
They had but one Wife, and she still lay between them,  
they being our Saints, tho' she could be no Whore;  
Dangerfield Swore too, all sorts of Oaths, black and blue,  
tho' he had been Carted, and Pillared before,  
Yet they still escaped, tho' worse no Hell raked,  
Then why may not I, that can Rebel no more?   

VIII.  
Yet that fortunate Hour, they got out of the Tower,  
both Wildman and Trenchard. Old Charlton and all:  
I may find Friends too, tho' Jefferies looked sour,  
and Pardon perhaps, when I come to Whitehall;  
Guineys' five Thousand too, (for Printing of Treason) due,  
like some for Ploting; a kind Recompense;  
While others for Loyalty, in the Goal daily Dye,  
I'll into the Country, and live like a Prince.    

Printed for J. Dean, Bookseller in Cranborn-street, in Leicester-Fields, near Newport-House, 1684.