The citizens trade,
The merchants do lade,
And send their ships into Spain;
No pirates at sea
To make them a prey,
For the King enjoyes the sword again.
The old man and boy,
The clergy and lay,
Their joyes cannot contain;
’Tis better than of late
With the Church and the State,
Now the King enjoyes the sword again.
Let’s render our praise
For these happy dayes
To God and our sovereign;
Your drinking give ore,
Swear not as before,
For the King bears not the sword in vain.
Fanaticks, be quiet,
And keep a good diet,
To cure your crazy brain;
Throw off your disguise,
Go to church and be wise,
For the King bears not the sword in vain.
Let faction and pride
Be now laid aside,
That truth and peace may reign;
Let every one mend,
And there is an end,
For the King bears not the sword in vain.
HERE’S A HEALTH UNTO HIS MAJESTY.
There is only one verse to this Song. The music is arranged for three voices in “Playford’s Musical Companion, 1667.”
Here’s a health unto his Majesty,
With a fal la la la la la la,
Confusion to his enemies,
With a fal lal la la la la la la.
And he that will not drink his health,
I wish him neither wit nor wealth,
Nor but a rope to hang himself.
With a fal lal la la la la la la la la,
With a fal lal la la la la la.
THE WHIGS DROWNED IN AN HONEST TORY HEALTH.
From Col. 180 Loyal Songs.