A Trick for Tyburn: OR A PRISON RANT. BEING A SONG of the Prisoners of Newgate, at the GAOL-DELIVERY.

To the Tune of Hark the Thundering Canons Rore
TRumpets sound and Steeples Ring
Every Loyal Subject Sing,
With a Health to James our King
For his Pardon granted.
Prisoners half Dead that lay,
Clos'd in Stone, in stead of Clay,
Have their Liberty to Day,
Which before they wanted.
Newgate lately did bring forth
Seventy Children at a Birth,
All in Wantonness and Mirth,
At a Gaol-Delivery.
But her Keepers they Ly In,
Money sick for want of Sin;
They will look both Pale and Thin,
Till a new Recovery.
Now the Doors are open wide,
Jack may take his Mare and Ride;
With a Leg on every side;
And the Jade be flinging.
Take her Halter Ketch, and try
What's the nearest course to Die;
And we'll write thine Elegy,
He's Hang'd for want of Hanging.
Henceforth we will Steal no more,
Tho we should be ne'r so Poor,
If (by chance) we take a Whore
In single Fornication.
We Get a Soldier to the King,
Or a Sea-man who doth bring
From the Indies every thing,
It doth not Wrong the Nation.
We were Rebels (more than Base)
To abuse an act of Grace:
We'll ne'r do't in any Case;
We'll Legal be and Loyal.
If the French begin to Reel,
English Hearts are true as Steel;
We'll make their Breasts our Bullets feel
For James our King the Royal.
Should our Case be ne'r so bad,
We will never be so mad
As to go upon the Pad,
Whil'st our Life endureth
This Rogue that was a great Trapan,
Is two parts turn'd a Civil Man,
And honestly Drinks off his Can,
And nothing deadly feareth.
We wish that those that cannot pay
Their Debts, may have a Jubiley;
That Poor Men for the King may Pray
At his Great Coronation.
To see the Usurers go Mourn
And take with Jack a second Turn,
When their Bills and Bonds they Burn;
Would over-joy the Nation.
Whitington did build an House
Enough to Starve a Rat or Mouse,
But left Allowance for a Louse,
To give Poor Men the Fever.
But James the Great hath found a way
To turn his Scepter to a Key,
And give his Children all the Play;
God Bless him then for Ever.

LONDON, Printed by G. C. for J. Cox, at the Blue-Ball in Thames-street. 1685.

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