They’re excellent contrivers,
I wonder what they’re not,
For something they can make
Of nothing and a plot.
And a Tory I will be, etc.
But now your holy cheat
Is known throughout the nation;
And a Whig is known to be
A thing quite out of fashion.
And a Tory I will be, etc.
A NEW GAME AT CARDS:
OR,
WIN AT FIRST AND LOSE AT LAST.
A popular ballad, written immediately after the restoration of Charles II.; and in which the victorious Cavaliers render honour to General Monk, Duke of Albemarle.
Tune, “Ye gallants that delight to play.”
Ye merry hearts that love to play
At cards, see who hath won the day;
You that once did sadly sing
The knave of clubs hath won the king;
Now more happy times we have,
The king hath overcome the knave.
Not long ago a game was play’d,
When three crowns at the stakes were laid;
England had no cause to boast,
Knaves won that which kings had lost:
Coaches gave the way to carts,
And clubs were better cards than hearts.
Old Noll was the knave o’ clubs,
And dad of such as preach in tubs;
Bradshaw, Ireton, and Pride
Were three other knaves beside;
And they play’d with half the pack,
Throwing out all cards but black.
But the just Fates threw these four out,
Which made the loyal party shout;
The Pope would fain have had the stock,
And with these cards have whipt his dock.
But soon the Devil these cards snatches
To dip in brimstone, and make matches.
But still the sport for to maintain,
Bold Lambert, Haslerigg, and Vane,
With one-eyed Hewson, took their places,
Knaves were better cards than aces;
But Fleetwood he himself did save,
Because he was more fool than knave.