The Royal Oak: OR, The wonderful travels, miraculous escapes, strange accidents of his sacred Majesty King Charles the Second.  

How from Worcester fight by good hap, Our Royal King made an escape;  
How he disrobed himself of things that precious were,  
And with a knife cut off his curled hair;  
How a hollow Oak his palace was as then, And how King Charles became a servingman   
To the Tune of, in my freedom is all my Joy.  
 
 

COme friends and unto me draw near  
A sorrowful ditty you shall hear,  
You that deny your lawful Prince  
Let Conscience now your faults convince,  
And now in love and not in fear,  
Now let his Presence be your joy,  
whom God in mercy would not destroy   

The relation that here I bring  
Concerning Charles our Royal King,  
Through what dangers he hath past  
And is proclaimed King at last;  
The Prince's sorrows we will sing  
Which the fates sorely did annoy  
and God in mercy would not destroy.   

After Worcester most fatal fight  
When that King Charles was put flight,  
When many men their lives laid down  
To bring their Sovereign to the Crown,  
The which was a most glorious sight;  
Great was his Majesty's convoy  
whom God in mercy would not destroy.   

In Worcester battle fierce and hot,  
His horse twice under him was shot;  
And by a wise and prudent thrift  
To save his life was forced to shift,  
Without difficulty it was not:  
Providence did him safely convey  
whom God in mercy would not destroy.   

And being full of discontents  
Stripped off his Princely Ornaments,  
Thus full of troubles and of cares,  
A knife cut off his curled hairs,  
Whereby the hunters he prevents:  
God did in mercy him convoy  
So that they could not him destroy.   

A chain of gold he gave away  
Worth three hundred pounds that day.  
In this disguise by honest thrift  
Command all for themselves to shift,  
With one friend both night and day:  
Poor Prince alone to God's convoy  
His foes they could not him destroy.   

These two wandered into a Wood  
Where a hollow Oak there stood,  
And for his precious lives dear sake  
Did of that Oak his palace make,  
His friend towards night provided food,  
So their precious lives the did enjoy  
whom God in mercy would not destroy   

Lord Willmot most valiant and stout;  
He was pursued by the Rout,  
Was hid in a fiery kiln of Malt  
And so escaped the Soldier's assault,  
Which searched all the house about,  
Not dreaming the kiln was his convoy  
which God in mercy would not destroy.   

The Second Part,  
To the same Tune.  
 

ANd relates King Charles his miseries,  
Which forces tears from tender eyes;  
Mistress Lane entreats him earnestly,  
For to find out his Majesty,  
And him to save she would devise,  
Unto her house they him convoy,  
Whom God, etc.   

King Charles a livery Cloak more than,  
And became a Servingman,  
And Westward road towards the Sea,  
Intended transported to be,  
And Mistress Lane now please he can,  
Which was the King's safest convoy,  
Whom God, etc.   

An accident of great renown,  
As they were for to ride throw a Town,  
A Troop of Horse stood cross the street;  
Then jealousy the King did greet,  
And Fortune seemed on him to frown,  
He thought the Fates would him annoy,  
Whom God in mercy, etc.   

The Captain commanded his men,  
To th' Right and Left to open then,  
For harmless Travellers he them did take  
And an interval for them did make,  
And so they passed on again  
Unto King Charles' not small joy.  
Whom God, etc.   

His Mistress coming to her In  
Left William her man in the Kitchen;  
The Cook maid asked where he was born,  
And what Trade that he did learn:  
To frame his excuse he did begin,  
Thus his sorrow was turned to joy,  
Whom God, etc.   

To answer mild he thus begun,  
At Brumigam a Nailers' son:  
Then said the maid the jack stands still,  
Pray wind it up if that you will,  
Which he did, suspicion to shun,  
And somewhat did the same annoy,  
Yet did not the same quite destroy.   

As those that were by do say  
He went about it the wrong way,  
Which angered the Maid the same to see.  
She called him a clownish Boobée  
In all my life that ever I saw;  
Her railing caused him laugh for joy.  
Whom God, etc.   

After many weeks in jeopardy,  
He was wasted into Normandy,  
The God of Heaven for his person ca●'d,  
The Shipmaster had a great reward.  
Thus the good Prince from hence did fly,  
To suffer hardship he was not coy.  
Which now will be this nations joy.    
FINIS.  
J. W.   

London, Printed for Charles Tyus on London-Bridge.