The Noble Prodigal, OR, The young Heir newly come to his Estate.  
Who very kindly doth invite you all,  
To feast upon his Father's funeral.  
A new Medley of six Airs.  
 

First Ayr. The Jews Corant.  
LEt's call and drink the Cellar dry,  
There's nothing sober underneath the sky  
The greatest Kingdoms in confusion lie,  
Since all the world grow mad, why may not I?  
my Father's dead, and I am free  
he left no children in the world but me.  
the Devil drank him down with usury  
and I'll repine in liberality.  
When first the English war began  
He was precisely a politic man,  
That gained his state by Sequestration  
till Oliver began  
to come with sword in hand and put him to the run  
Then jovial Lads who are undone  
So by the Father come home to the Son,  
Whom wine and music now do wait upon  
he'll tipple up a tun,  
and drink your woes away, jolly hearts come on come on   

Second Ayr. Princess Royal.  
Here's a health to him that may  
do a trick that shall  
advance you all  
And beget a very jovial day.  
Fill another bowl to he  
Who hath drank by stealth  
his Landlord's health  
If his spirit and his tongue agree  
the Land shall celebrate his fame,  
all the world enbalm his name,  
not a right good fellow,  
but will satisfy the same.  
The bells full merrily shall ring  
All the town shall dance and sing  
more delights than I can tell ye  
When we see this noble Spring,  
we'll have Ladies by the belly  
and snatch at at other thing.   
 
 

The third Air. Come hither my own sweet Duck.  
WEe's awe be merry and jolly,  
quaff carouse and réel  
Wee's play with Peggy and Molly  
dance and kiss, and féell,  
Wee's put up the Bagpipe & Organ,  
and make the Welsh Harper to play,  
Till Mauris ap Shone ap Morgan  
fisk as on St. Taffies day.  
Hold up Jinny.  
Piper come play us up a Spring  
all you that have music in ye  
Tipple, dance, and sing.   

Fourth Ayer. French Tricatees.  
Let de French Mounseiur come and swear  
Begar Mounseiur,  
Dis is de ting ye long to hear  
So many a year,  
Dancing vill be looked upon,  
Now the man of Iron is gone,  
Me glad his dancing day be done.  
When de flower de luces grows  
With the Enlish Crown and Rose  
Dat's very good as we suppose  
De French can live vithout de nose,   

Fifth Ayr. French Tricatees.  
Spain and England then,  
like men,  
Shall love and make a League again,  
Holland Boors shall quaff,  
and laugh,  
Poor Irish swim in Usquebaugh,  
James and Jinnikin  
touch the Minnikin  
Drink till all the Sky look blue,  
by this sweet change  
Wonders shall ensue.  
almost as strange  
As Scotland to be true.   

Sixth Ayr. A new Country-dance.  
No Drayman shall wish his dull feet appear  
Lord in the Common-weal,  
Or jesuits in the Pulpit appear;  
under a Cloak of zeal  
Mucleian never be noted  
for wand'ring men of ease,  
But they shall be finely Coated  
& permitted to sing what they please  
If all things do but hit well as  
who knows but so 'tmay be,  
Though now you be very zealous  
than you'll laugh and be marry as we