A NEW SONG  

THanks to our good K— William,  
Who looks so kindly to Us,  
He sends our Money all abroad  
For fear it should undo us.   

Oh, Twenty Millions good,  
And Ten more must be paid;  
Abroad we lose our English Blood,  
And their Leaders were afraid.   

I mean not good Count Solmes,  
Nassau, nor Scravenmore;  
For if there e'er were such Poltrones  
My Mother is a Whore:   

Nor the two new made Lords,  
Benting, nor Squab Athlone;  
Nor yet our Cousin Zuylestein,  
For such were never known.  
Oh Twenty Millions good, etc.   

At Steinkirk they did sacrifice  
The bravest of our Men,  
And here he leaves his nasty Dutch  
To get us Heirs again.  
Oh, Twenty Millions good, etc.   

You swearing Clergy all,  
Who grumbling pay your Mulct;  
But if the Devil comes a shore,  
You'll sing Quicunque vult.  
Oh, Twenty Millions good, etc.   

The Members sell their Votes,  
And give away our Riches;  
But when King James does come again  
They'll all besh— t their Breeches.  
Oh, Twenty Millions good, etc.   

Four years you have been sitting,  
And all to mend our Laws;  
But if you han't your Pensions paid,  
You'll turn your Yea to noah's.  
Oh, Twenty Millions good, etc.   

God bless our King and Queen,  
And send them long to reign;  
For if they e'er do Abdicate,  
We shall ne'er have the like again.   

Oh, Twenty Millions good,  
And Ten more must be paid;  
Abroad we lose our English Blood,  
And their Leaders were afraid.    

LONDON, Printed in the Year MDCXCIII.