A NEW SONG, BEING THE TORIES TRYUMPH, OR, THE Point well Weathered:
To a New Theatre Tune.
I.
SOme say, the
Papists had a
Plot,
Against the Church and Crown;
But be it so, or be it not,
The
King must please the Town.
The
Papists take
Tybourn by turns,
To please the City Gulls;
It's strange, that they, who all wear Horns,
Should fear the
Popish Bull's.
II.
The
House of Commons blow the Coals,
The Nation to dissettle;
And, like true Tinkers, make two Holes,
To mend one in a Kettle:
Or else, What needs that precious
Vote,
That if the
King should Fall
By
Pagan, or
Phanatick Plot,
The
Pope must pay for all?
III.
Our Royal
James of Princely Race,
And High Illustrious Fame,
Was not thought fit, by
Commons base,
To follow
Charles's
Waine:
But let that
House of Office know,
When they have Sow'd their Leaven,
He shall Succeed, though they say no,
By all the Laws of Heaven.
IV.
Old
Cavaliers for Loyalty
They streight Clapt up for Treason,
In hopes to bring in
Anarchy,
'Gainst Justice, Sense, and Reason.
Brave
Hallifax and
Feversham,
Brave
Worster, Just and Wise,
They did Vote down, as dangerous Men,
That they Themselves might Rise.
V.
But Oh! that Lord in
Leistershire,
Turn'd Catchpole, though too Late,
'Tis better Priests in Prison were,
Then Bums should loose their Trade:
For Priest poor
Waller never sought,
But where was Golden Crosses;
His
Mirmidons went Snacks, 'tis Thought,
In all the Owners Losses.
VI.
The
Doctor he has bid Farewell
To
Jesus, and the
Court;
And
Tony's Tap runs flat and dull,
Makes
Catch in hopes of Sport.
Bleu
Protestants can make no work,
Unless like
Hungary,
They for Religion Joyn the
Turk,
For
Christian Liberty.
London, Printed for J. D. in the Year 1682.