THE Modern Fanatical Reformer: OR, THE Religious State-Tinker.  
Licenced according to Order, To the Tune of, Liggan Water.  

ay  
I'm Born of English Flesh and Blood;  
And surely, for my Country's Good:  
For the Good o'th' Cause, I take great Pain,  
And Godliness is all my Gain.   

TWO  
'Tis true, some Saucy Knaves do Bawl,  
Nick-naming me, Fanatic call:  
But Godly Meekness I profess;  
A Pox confound their Wickedness.!   

III  
I hate all Noise, all Strife, and grudge,  
So much as th' Organs in the Church.  
I love all People, without Strife;  
Nay, hate not even my Neighbour's Wife.   

IV  
I hate Formalities and Rules,  
Disputes and Canons of the Schools;  
Set Times for Feasting, with Minced Pies;  
I hate Plumb-Pudding, as my Eyes.   

V  
When in the State there is a Rent,  
Disputes 'twixt King and Parliament,  
I then apply my Healing-Salve;  
That is, I make it worse by Half.   

VI  
I Preach up Godly Reformation,  
And love a Pious Declaration;  
I don't approve of Sabbath-Breaking,  
●o, not a Wench in Corner squeaking,   

VII  
I love Religious Conversation,  
Where Godly Sighs are much in Fashion;  
I love the Whites of Lady's Eyes,  
Their Lovely, Tender, Panting Cries.   

VIII  
I love to press my Doctrine home,  
And squeeze it in, as 'twere, to some.  
When Hears do sail, I take their Hand,  
Which cannot my Warm Zeal withstand.   

IX  
I love not Those who will not Swear  
To be true to ' th' King and Queen, that are;  
And if King James should come a Main;  
To Say and Swean as much again.   

X  
I hate Disputes of Wrong and Right,  
Unless we get our Living by't;  
To Talk of Government's and States,  
Unless we gain by these Debates.   

XI  
The Surplice, Cope, and Mitre too,  
Are Things to me that will not do.  
But yet, since Sisters are permitted  
To come to us, they are all acquitted.   

XII  
All Men in Power I do profess,  
Are merely Tools of Wickedness,  
Unless from us they take Direction  
By way of Godly Saints Perfection.   

XIII  
For Great King William I do Pray,  
That is, if he doth get the Day;  
The Great and Prosperous I Bless,  
And who the Devil would do less?   

XIV  
And now, to make my Application;  
All things are in, or Out of Fashion.  
Some, Things are Old, and some are New,  
And as Things Change, so I will too.    

London, Printed for Rich Kell, in West-Smithfield, 1693.