I show’d the paths to heaven untrod,
From Popery to refine ’em,
And taught the people to serve God,
As if the Devil were in ’em.
A turn-coat, etc.
When Charles return’d into our land,
The English Church supporter,
I shifted off my cloak and band,
And so became a courtier.
A turn-coat, etc.
The King’s religion I profest,
And found there was no harm in ’t;
I cogg’d and flatter’d like the rest,
Till I had got preferment.
A turn-coat, etc.
I taught my conscience how to cope
With honesty or evil;
And when I rail’d against the Pope
I sided with the Devil.
A turn-coat, etc.
THE CLARET DRINKER’S SONG,
OR
THE GOOD FELLOW’S DESIGN.
Being a pleasant song of the times, written by a person of quality.—From the Roxburgh Ballads, Vol. iii.
Wine the most powerfull’st of all things on earth,
Which stifles cares and sorrows in their birth;
No treason in it harbours, nor can hate
Creep in when it bears away, to hurt the State.
Though storms grow high, so wine is to be got,
We are secure, their rage we value not;
The Muses cherish’d up such nectar, sing
Eternal joy to him that loves the King.
To the tune of “Let Cæsar live long.”
A pox of the fooling and plotting of late,
What a pudder and stir has it kept in the State!
Let the rabble run mad with suspicions and fears,
Let ’em scuffle and rail till they go by the ears,—
Their grievances never shall trouble my pate,
So I but enjoy my dear bottle at quiet.
What coxcombs were those that would ruin their case
And their necks for a toy, a thin wafer, and mass!
For at Tyburn they never had needed to swing
Had they been but true subjects to drink and their King:
A friend and a bottle is all my design,—
He’s no room for treason that’s top-full of wine.