He the Nag of an Irish Papist did buy,
So doubting his Courage and his Loyalty,
He taught him to eat with his Oats Gunpowdero,
And prance to the Tune of Lilly-bolero. [11]
XI.
The Tub-preaching Saint was so furious a Blade,
In Jack-boots both Day and Night preacht, slept, and pray'd;
To call them to prayers he need no Saint's Bell,
For gingling his Spurs chim'd them all in as well.
XII.
A noble stout Scrivener that now shall be nameless,
That in Day of Battle he might be found blameless,
A War-horse of Wood from Duck Carver buys,
To learn with more safety the Horse Exercise.
XIII.
With one eye on's Honour, the other on's Gain,
He fixes a Desk on Bucephalus Main,
That so by that means he his Prancer bestriding,
Might practise at once both his Writing and Riding.
XIV.
But, oh, the sad news which their Joy now confounds,
To Ireland, their own, like the last Trumpet sounds;
Lord! Lord! how this sets them a Waiting Petitions,
And thinking of nothing but Terms and Conditions.
XV.
Oh, who will March for me? speak any that dare,
A Horse and an Hundred Pounds for him, that's fair;
Dear Courtiers, excuse me from Teagland and Slaughter,
And take which you please, Sir, my Wife or my Daughter."