A TORY in a Whig's Coat: A New English BALLAD,
To an Old Scotch Tune, Ʋp with Ayley, &c.
[1]
WHat! still ye Whigs uneasie!
Will nothing cool your Brain,
Unless Great Charles, to please-ye,
Will let ye drive his Wain?
Then up with P— and O—,
And up with Knaves a pair;
But down with him that Votes
Against a Lawful Heir.
[2]
Your Grievance is remov'd,
Old Stafford's made a Saint,
Though you but little prov'd,
The Karle away is sent.
Then up with all your spight,
And shew us what you mean;
I fear me, by this Light,
Ye long to vent your Spleen.
[3]
That Peerless House of Commons,
So zealous for the Lord,
Meant (piously) with some on's
To flesh the Godly's Sword:
Then up with au the Leaven,
With each Dissenting Loon,
Then up with Bully Stephen;
But Colledge is gone doon.
[4]
What wou'd those Loons have had?
What makes 'em still to mutter?
I think thy're au gone mad,
They keep so muckle clutter:
Then up with P— and S—,
Another Blessed Pair;
And up with e'ry Brute;
But chiefly Goatham's Mayor.
[5]
Our Salamanca-Priest
Has left his Flock in hast;
And shrewdly is he mist;
Which makes us all agast:
Then up with Lads of worth,
With Baldwin, Vile and Care;
For these must now hold forth,
And Dick shall nose a Pray'r.
[6]
But is awr Parson gone;
And whither gone I trow?
What, back agen to Spain?
Geud Faith e'n let him go:
Then up with blundering S.
The Tories Plague, I trow;
'Tis he our Cause must bless
With Characters, and so.—
[7]
But scurvy Heraclitus,
And Roger too, is rude,
And Nat, who plagues poor Titus,
Which makes us chew the Cud:
Then up with Associations,
Remonstrances and Libels;
'Tis these must save Three Nations,
And will preserve our Bibles.
[8]
The Polish Fox does seem
To sleep his time away;
But his pernicious Dream
Is (only) to Betray:
Then up with How. the Mole,
And many more that be;
But up with Little Pole
Upon the highest Tree.
[9]
Hieraclitus is a Debtor,
To some within the City,
VVho sent him sike a Letter,
He'l pay them in a Ditty:
Then up with au Dissenters,
Up with 'em in a Cart:
And up with him that ventures
His Majesty to thwart.
[10]
But now Great YORK is come,
(VVhom Heaven still be with)
You'll find (both all and some)
'Twas ill to shew your Teeth:
Then up with e'ry Round-head,
And e'ry Factious Brother,
You're Luck is now confounded,
Ye au must up together.