THE Hang-Man's Lamentation; OR, THE Chancellour's Farewel.
HAve at the Blind Harper's, for once let us try,
To Sing a Poor Chancellor's Sad Destiny,
Bewayl'd by Three Kingdoms, without one wet Eye.
Then Farewel Jeff—s, Old Boy Jeff—s,
Ever and ever Farewel.
With Popery and Slavery, he Thriv'd Cock-a-hoop;
But when Right, Law, and Gospel, began to Look Up,
He got a Consumption, and dy'd of a Droop.
Then Farewel, &c.
To Die neither Satan, nor Belzebub's Debtors;
Some say he's but gon to Visit his Betters;
And to take up a Lodging for Old Father Letre's.
Then Farewel, &c.
Yes, the Chancellour's Dead▪ and would ye know why?
His Boys in the West, like Goblins stood by;
And with Bloody Pitch-forks, kill'd him Dead in the Eye.
Then Farewel, &c.
The Ghosts of his Martyrs, they made such a Stir there,
That Great Russel's Ghost, and Cornish's Murther,
E'en frighted his Soul, to the Devil and further.
Then Farewel, &c.
The sad Thought of Hemp, pierc'd him thoro' and thoro',
And to tell you the Truth, in meer Grief and Sorrow;
He e'en Died to Day, to save Hanging to Morrow.
Then Farewel, &c.
This Hector that once cou'd Roar, Swagger, and Bristle,
Our great Son of Thunder's, gon out like a Fizle;
And bids both the Sheriffs, and Hangman go Whistle,
Then Farewel, &c.
But to march off so sneaking, in troth was fowl play,
For his good Friends of Holbourn, as all People say,
Complain he has lost them a whole Holy-Day.
Then Farewel Jeff—s, Old Boy Jeff—s,
Ever and ever Farewel.
LONDON, Printed in the Year, 1689.