THE States-Man's almanac: Being an Excellent New BALLAD, in which, the Qualities of each MONTH are considered; whereby it appears, that a PARLIAMENT cannot meet in any of the Old MONTHS: With a Proposal for mending the calendar, Humbly offered to the Packers of the n●xt PARLIAMENT.  
To the Tune of could and Raw, the North did blow, &c.  

PROLOGUE.  

I.  
THE Talk up and down,  
In Country and Town,  
Has been long of Parliaments Sitting:  
But we'll make it clear,  
ne'er a Month in the Year,  
Is proper for such a Meeting.   

II.  
The Judges declare it,  
The Ministers swear it,  
And the Town as a Tale receives it:  
Let 'em say what they can,  
There's never a Man,  
Except God's Vicegerent believes it.   

III.  
If the critics in spite,  
Our Arguments slight;  
And think 'em too light for the Master:  
It has often been known,  
That Men on a Throne,  
Has Harrang'd the whole Realm with no better.   

IV.  
For in times of old,  
When Kings were less bold,  
And made for their faults Excuses:  
Such Topick's as these,  
The Commons to please,  
Did serve for most Excellent Uses.   

V.  
Either Christmas came on,  
Or Harvest begun,  
And all must repair to their Station:  
'twas too dry, or too wet,  
For the Houses to Sit,  
And Hey for a Prorogation.   

VI.  
Then, Sir, if you please,  
With such Reasons as these,  
Let's see how each Moon is appointed.  
For tho it be strange  
In all her Change,  
She Favours not God's Anointed.    

The almanac.  

January.  

I.  
January.  
THE first is to could,  
For Popery to hold,  
Since Southern Climates Improve it:  
And therefore in Frost,  
'tis Odds but its lost,  
If they offer to remove it.    

February,  

II.  
The next ●lo's betid,  
( Tho them the King died)  
Ill luck, and they must not be ●ampring:  
For had not Providence quick,  
cooled his Head i'th' neck,  
before God they were all a scampring.    

March.  

III.  
The Month of Old Rome,  
Has an Omen with some;  
But the sleeping Wind then rouses,  
And trust not the crowd,  
When Storms are so loud,  
Least their Breath infect the Houses.    

April.  

IV.  
In this by Mishap.  
Southask had a clap,  
Which peppered our Gracious Master:  
And therefore i'th' Spring,  
He must physic his Thing,  
And venture no new Disaster.    

May.  

V.  
This Month is too good,  
And too lusty his Blood,  
To be for Business at leisure,  
With his Confessors leave,  
Honest Bridget may give,  
The Fumbler Royal his Pleasure.    

June.  

VI.  
The Brains of the State,  
Have been too hot of late,  
They have managed all Business in rapture:  
And to call us in June,  
Is much to the same Tune,  
Being mad to the end of the Chapter.    

July  

VII.  
This Season was made,  
For Camp, and Parade,  
Where with the expense of his Treasures,  
Of much Sweat and Pains,  
Discreetly he Trains,  
Such Men, as will break all his Measures.    

August.  

VIII.  
This Month did advance  
Our Projects in France,  
As Bartholomew Remembers  
But alas they want force,  
To take the same Course,  
With Our Heretical Members.    

September  

IX.  
They cannot now meet,  
For the Progress was set,  
But they find it a scurvy Fashion:  
To ride, and to ride,  
To be snub'd and denied,  
By every good man in the Nation.    

October.  

X.  
Now Hunting comes in,  
That Liscence for Sin,  
That does with a Cloak befriend him,  
For if the Queen knows,  
What at Graham's he does,  
His Divine Right can hardly defend him,    

November.  

XI.  
November, might do,  
For ought that we know:  
But that the King promised by chance Sirs,  
And his word before,  
Was pawned for much more,  
Then er'e 'twill be able to Answer.    

December.  

XII.  
The last of the year,  
Resemblance does bear,  
To their hopes and fortune declining:  
never hope for success,  
Day grows less and less,  
And the Sun once so high has done shining     

EPILOGUE.  

I.  
You Gypsies of Rome,  
That run up and down,  
And with Miracles people cousin:  
By the help of some Saint,  
Get the Month that you want,  
And make Thirteen of the Dozen.   

II.  
You see the old Year  
Wont help yea, 'tis clear,  
And therefore, to save your honour:  
Get a New Sun and Moon,  
And the work is halfdone,  
And Faith I think not sooner.    
September the 1st. From the Imperial Camp before Belgrade, to Chavelier Janco Don Lazarillo.