AN ANSWER To the Pamphlet called, The Loyal Feast: Or a true Description of His Majesties Deep-dy'd Scarlet Protestants: The true begotten Sons of the Where of Babylon.
To the same Tune. Sauney will never be my Love again.
TOries are Tools of the Irish Race,
And well belov'd by Blades of the Town;
They've Irish Hearts, but an English Face,
And Dammee and Huzza is all their tone.
With Abhorring and Addressing their time is spent,
Quaffing and Cursing, though all in vain:
But the main thing they fear is an honest Parliament,
For Tory will still be a Rogue in Grain.
2.
Tories are made like Bristol Cans,
Round and hollow, but I'le tell you more anon;
The Word is, Dammee Jack! meet me at Sams;
There's honest Roger, and Flat-footed Tom,
Huffing and swearing in Silk so fine,
Black-Coats, Red-Coats, Lord and Swain;
E're long they'l Petition Caesar to resign,
For Tory will still be a Rogue in Grain.
3.
These are the Lads that fight the Pope's Cause,
And all resolved, like pious good men,
To hang by nothing but the Right Line and Laws,
If the Pope and his Crew return not again;
Bristol's Tears and England's Woes,
With Scotland's Groans, do tell us plain,
They will not take the Oaths they impose,
For Tory will still be a Rogue in Grain.
4.
These are the Babes that wou'd shirk off the Plot,
And under the Name of the Churches true Sons,
Swear, Lye, and Sham, to have it forgot;
But a Pox take the Fops, they talk not to Nuns.
They'll swear (but who'll be thus deceiv'd)
That Godfrey murder'd himself 'tis plain;
But the Devil on't is, they cann't be believ'd,
Because the Tory's a Rogue in Grain.
5.
But hark! sure I hear the noise of a Feast,
Mars and his Sons, with a glorious Show,
The thing's very true, though I took it for a Jeast:
But here pray observe how they march'd from Bow,
O! the vast number, and well accoutr'd too:
These Bonny Boys, with their gilstering Train;
But yet the hir'd Feathers, and Fagot Merchants knew,
That Tory will still be a Rogue in Grain.
6.
The Board being spread with store of Flesh and Fish,
The Fat Kid, Wine, and other things besides;
The French Mode observ'd, to garnish every Dish,
and each Course serv'd up with Crucifix and Bread:
Oaths Rot the Whigs, with Huzza's flew about;
But Slavery and Opppressions, there lay the Main,
And all to please the Image of the Rout,
For Tory will still be a Rogue in Grain.
7.
Many fine Shows, and other pleasant Games,
Were offer'd after all, to please Spectators Eyes;
The chiefest of which, was London's fatal Flames;
May Curses still attend those that Mischief devise:
These are the Saints, who plead Common-Good,
Our Persons to secure, but their Intent is plain,
To Crown us with Slavery, and Christen us in Blood;
For Tory will still be a Rogue in Grain.
8.
God save the KING, and the true Royal James,
Monmouth's Duke, and Tony, England's Friend,
And all the Honest Souls, tho' I omit their Names;
May Mischief in earnest their Enemies attend:
But for those Rogues, that Truths do oppose,
And for Romes Cause, have play'd their Shams in vain;
Let Shame and Confusion be Plagues to all those,
That are such Tories and Rogues in Grain.