A NEW-YEARS GIFT FOR THE WHIGS: Or, A True Relation of Threescore Presbyters (Foot and Horse) that surprized Two of the Kin [...] Guards in their beds, at an Inn seaven Miles from Edenborough, Cutting all the Flesh off their bon [...] till they were Dead, and carried the pieces to their Respective Friends, and there burned them [...] Contempt of God and their King.
Tune of,
Then then to the Duke let's fill up the Glass.
[...]
[...]
GReat Souls that are free from Faction, rejoyce,
and stand on y'r guard for y'r
Country &
King
Observe the success of
Papillion, Duboice,
of
Bethel and
Cornish, and
Tony's black Sting:
Walcot and
Colledge, and Young Horned Dotage,
see how some are hang'd, and the rest run away;
Let this be a warning, to
Whigs rigid scorning,
who choose to be
Damn'd rather than to Obey.
II.
Yet still with the
Scotch they dare to Conspire,
the
Dutch are not idle the
French to send o're;
The Scum of the Country from
France do retire,
to support the Old-
Cause, come to
breed on our Shore;
To joyn with the
Dutch or the
whigs of our Nation,
must be the Design of those
Presbyter Saints;
To th' ruine of our
trade they have made an
invasion
pretence of
Religion protects their false Cants.
III.
Whigs constant to nothing, but
treason and
change,
o're-charging their
Noddles with
notions of
State;
With Trimming reflections on loyal L'
Estrange,
more
profligate Villains ne'r peept thru' a Grate;
Let
Oats be remember'd,
ten thousand times perjur'd,
and keep the
Beast chained, until the next Term;
And then through a Casement, toth'
whigs great amazement,
and next Sessions after he'l
Tyburn adorn.
IV.
The
Scotch-Covenanters to rouse up our Knaves,
hath given us a Signet, as they did before;
VVhen the Bishops brains against the Coach-Nav
[...]
they dash'd out, to shew what a God they ador
[...]
By th' light of the Spirit, some sixty in number,
surpriz'd in their beds two of the Kings Guards
Alive legg and limb they cut 'um asunder,
by
Yea and
Nay, Brother, they merit reward:
V.
with the flesh on the points of their
swords they reti
[...]
in Triumph, cry'd, This is the work of the
Lea
[...]
For this
holy murther by th' Saints we were Hir'd,
Gend faith the next time let 'um stand on
their gua
[...]
Had they been the King & the Duke, we had glory'
[...]
and a Thanksgiving-day had been
hum'd in
our Kin
[...]
For their
blood we do
thirst, but their
name we
abhor
[...]
for we
worship no
King, but the De'el and the Tur
[...]
VI.
And thus they disperc'd with the blood of their pre
[...]
in hopes of a better next time they do meet;
This is the Religion our Saints hopes to sway,
in
murder and
plunder thinks nothing more sweet.
But God bless the King, the Duke and the Dutches
[...]
for the Royal line let's Fight to maintain
'Gainst all that upon the Prerogative touches,
conclude with this Health,
let Charles
ever Reign▪
FINIS.
Printed for J. Deane Bookseller, in Cranborn-street, near Newport-house, in Leicester-fields.