Vox Populi Suprema Rex Carolus. Or, The Voice of the People for KING CHARLES With a true ACCOUNT of the Actions of the KINGDOMS Grand Trappanners, since the year 1641 to this present year 1660.  

GO, Go Bellora, try if thou canst  
Find out another Climate, Our wants  
Have made us Friends, The Angels sing,  
The People Vote, God save the King.   

No more Committees, nor Sequestrators,  
No more Excise, nor Haberdasher's,  
No more Compounders nor Malignants  
No more Engagements, nor Covenants.  
No more Imprisonments, nor Confinements,  
No more Jamaca's, nor Exilements.  
No more Tub-preaching, nor Hugh Peter.  
No more Good Wives to rub, nor holy Sisters,  
No more Lord Bradshaw, nor Prideaux  
No more Tom Scot that Jack in a Box,  
No more long Parliaments we thank thee George.  
No more Lord St. john's of all designs the Forge.  
No more John Thurlo, old Cromwel's Spider  
No more blind Generals, nor Esquire Lyder,  
No more Tom, and no more Noll  
No more Bess, nor no more Poll—  
No more of Richard, and no more of Harry  
No more Pembroke's which will neither go nor tarry  
No more cecils of the Camel's Order.  
No more Lambert, but no more Sr. Arthur,  
No more Protectors nor false Committee.  
No more Projectors; to undo our City,  
No more John Ireton, nor John Titchbourns  
No more of Jenkins, nor blaspheme Barebones,  
No more of Marshal, and no more of Nigh  
No more fanatics nor Presbytery  
No more such State Confounders, and their Kings,  
No more of Conscience tied with codpiss strings.  
No more Lord Desborough, but high, je, ho.  
No more the Burgess which ne'er said I nor no  
No more of gifted fleetwood's, nor Lord Whaley  
No more of Pride, the Commonwealths damned Talley.  
No more of Hewson the Commonwealths Translator,  
No more Church-Lands for Rich Sr. Arthur.  
No more of Staines Old Noll's Contriver,  
No more Lady Lambert since Old Nol don't sw— her:  
No more Lord Baxter the Thimble-maker.  
No more Griffith of all Sects but a Quaker.  
No more of Overton to keep out Hull,  
No more Nan Robbins! Harry Martin's T●ull;  
No more Whitlocks, nor Lisles for Keepers,  
No more Fleetwood Captain of the Weepers:  
No more Miles Corbet Devil of the Nation,  
No more Cooks the Devils by Creation:  
No more High, nor Haec, nor Hoe, no more Rump,  
No more Dear Sisters for a holy Jump,  
No more cheating of our City Maids,  
No more riding of our Wives like Jades.  
No more pretences for a Reformation,  
No more Pissles for honest Hugh's Collation,  
No more Acts against Christmas Pies,  
No more failing that with a Sister lies.   

Now then no more, hare are enough to please,  
Three Kingdoms, since no more shall be of these.   

Now 've heard these Changes, there's but one more  
More Sweet than all the Changes were before.   

A KING, a KING, all the people cry—  
The KING, the KING cries GEORGE and I—  
And so it shall be; GEORGE thy Word  
Will fetch him home, if not thy Sword.  
Although I am no Figure Flinger,  
No William Lily, nor yet John Stringer,  
No Almanac nor yet Prediction,  
No strange Prophecy nor new Fiction,  
St. GEORGE that Star, was to Usher in the Sun  
To see Great CHARLES, of Good Charles the Son.  
Oh what a night we have had! GEORGE thou alone  
Must be both STAR and SUN to light him home.  
Hasten good GEORGE, and bring him to his Throne,  
Both KING and People, shall plate thee in thy own.   

To close these Changes, Men and Angels sing  
Thanks to thee GEOROE, and GOD save the KING.    

LONDON, Printed by Theodorus Microcosmus, 1660.