No canvisars would dare to shew
Their postures and grimaces,
Or proph’sy what they never knew,
By dint of ugly faces.
But shove the tumbler through the town,
And quickly banish’d be,
For none must teach without a gown,
Then low, boys, down go we.
If such unhappy days should come,
Our virtue, moderation,
Would surely be repaid us home
With double compensation;
For as we never could forgive,
I fear we then should see
That what we lent we must receive,
Then low, boys, down go we.
Should honest brethren once discern
Our knaveries, they’d disown us,
And bubbl’d fools more wit should learn,
The Lord have mercy on us;
Let’s guard against that evil day,
Least such a time should be,
And tackers should come into play,
Then low, boys, down go we.
Tho’ hitherto we’ve play’d our parts
Like wary cunning foxes,
And gain’d the common people’s hearts
By broaching het’rodoxes,—
But they’re as fickle as the winds,
With nothing long agree,
And when they change their wav’ring minds,
Then low, boys, down go we.
Let’s preach and pray, but spit our gall
On those that do oppose us,
And cant of grace, in spite of all
The shame the Devil owes us:
The just, the loyal, and the wise
With us shall Papists be,
For if the High Church once should rise,
Then, Low Church, down go we.
PHANATICK ZEAL,
OR
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR THE WHIGS.
From a Collection of 180 Loyal Songs.
Tune, “A Swearing we will go.”
Who would not be a Tory
When the loyal are call’d so:
And a Whig now is known
To be the nation’s foe?
So a Tory I will be, will be,
And a Tory I will be.
With little band precise,
Hair Presbyterian cut,
Whig turns up hands and eyes
Though smoking hot from slut.
So a Tory I will be, etc.
Black cap turn’d up with white,
With wolfish neck and face,
And mouth with nonsense stuft,
Speaks Whig a man of grace,
And a Tory I will be, etc.