The Breech washed By a Friend to the RUMP.  

IN an humour of late I was  
Cleped a doleful dump.  
Thought I— we're at a fine pass;  
Not a man stands up for the Rump:  
But lets it be lashed o'er and o'er.  
While it lies like a senseless Fop—.  
'T would make a man, a Whore,  
To see a Tail tewed like a Top.  
Though a Rump be a dangerous Bit,  
And many a Knave runs mad onted,  
Yet verily as it may hit,  
An honest man may be glad on't.   

To abuse a poor, Blind Creature—  
I had like to have said, and a Dumb;  
But now it has gotten a Speaker,  
And Say is the Mouth of the Bum,  
When Bess ruled the Land there was no man  
Complained, and yet now they Rail:  
I beseech you what differs a woman  
〈◊〉 From a thing that's all Tongue, and Tail?  
Though a Rump, &c.   

The Charter we've sworn to defend,  
And propagate the Cause.  
What call you those of the Rump-end  
But Fundamental Laws?  
The Case is as clear as the Day,  
There had been no Reformation,  
If the Rump had not clawed it away,  
You had had no Propagation,  
Tho' a Rump, &c.   

As a Body's the better for a Purge,  
Tho' the Guts may be troubled with Grip●s:  
So the Nation will mend with a Scourge,  
Tho' the tail may be sick of the Stripes.  
Ill humours to conve●gh,  
When the State hath taken a looseness, ●  
(Who can hold what will away?)  
The Rump must do the business.  
Tho' a Rump, &c.   

The bold Cavalier, in the Field,  
That laughs at your Sword, and Gunshot,  
An Ordinance makes him to yield,  
And he's glad to turn tail to Bum-shot.  
Old Oliver was a Teazer,  
And waged war with the Stump;  
But Alexander, and Caesar  
Did both submit to the Rump.  
Tho' a Rump, &c.   

Let no man be further misled  
By an error, past Debate.  
For Sedgwick has proved it the Head,  
At well of the Church as the State;  
honest Hugh; that still turns up the Tippets,  
When he Kneels to Administer;  
Says— a Rump, with Skippon's sippets,  
Is a Dish for a Holy Sister,  
Tho' a Rump, &c.   

Through Pr●de of Flesh, or State  
Poor Souls are overthrown:  
How happy then is our Fate?  
we've a Rump to take us down,  
In matter's of 〈◊〉 'tis true,  
● Some Differings 〈◊〉 may  
But give the Saints their due,  
In the Rump they all agree.  
Tho' a Rump, &c.   

'Tis good at Bed, and at Bord;  
It gives us Pleasure and Ease,  
Will you have the rest in a word?  
'Tis good for the new disease,  
(The Tumult of the Guts;)  
'Tis a Recipe for the King's Evil,  
Wash the Members as sweet as Nuts,  
And then throw them all to the Devil.  
Though a Rump be a dangerous Bit,  
And many a Knave runs mad on't,  
Yet, verily, as it may hit,  
An honest man may be glad on't.    

Printed at Oxford for Carolus Gustavus.