When our masters are poor we leave ’em,
’Tis the Golden Calf we bow to;
We kill and we slay
Not for conscience, but pay;
Give us that, we’ll fight for you too.
Then away, etc.
’Twas that first turn’d the King out;
The Lords next; then the Commons:
’Twas that kept up Noll,
Till the Devil fetch’d his soul,
And then it set the Rump on’s.
Then away, etc.
Drunken Dick was a lame Protector,
And Fleetwood a back-slider;
These we served as the rest,
But the City’s the beast
That will never cast her rider.
Then away, etc.
When the Mayor holds the stirrup
And the Shrieves cry, God save your honours;
Then ’tis but a jump
And up goes the Rump,
That will spur to the Devil upon us.
Then away, etc.
And now for fling at your thimbles,
Your bodkins, rings, and whistles;
In truck for your toys
We’ll fit you with boys
(’Tis the doctrine of Hugh’s Epistles).
Then away, etc.
When your plate is gone, and your jewels,
You must be next entreated
To part with your bags,
And to strip you to rags,
And yet not think you’re cheated.
Then away, etc.
The truth is, the town deserves it,
’Tis a brainless, heartless monster:
At a club they may bawl,
Or declare at their hall,
And yet at a push not one stir.
Then away, etc.
Sir Arthur vow’d he’ll treat ’em
Far worse than the men of Chester;
He’s bold now they’re cow’d,
But he was nothing so loud
When he lay in the ditch at Lester.
Then away, etc.
The Lord has left John Lambert,
And the spirit, Feak’s anointed;
But why, O Lord,
Hast thou sheath’d thy sword?
Lo! thy saints are disappointed.
Then away, etc.
Though Sir Henry be departed,
Sir John makes good the place now;
And to help out the work
Of the glorious Kirk,
Our brethren march apace too.
Then away, etc.