HERE’s a Health to the Tackers, my Boys,
But mine A——se for the Tackers about;
May the brave English Spirits come in,
And the Knaves and Fanaticks turn out:
Since the Magpyes of late, are confounding the State,
And wou’d pull our Establishments down;
Let us make ’em a Jest, for they Shit in their Nest,
And be true to the Church and the Crown.
Let us chuse such Parliament Men
As have stuck to their Principles tight;
And wou’d not their Country betray
In the Story of Ashby and White:
Who care not a T——d, for a Whig, or a Lord,
That won’t see our Accounts fairly stated;
For C——ll ne’er fears, the Address of those Peers,
Who the Nation of Millions have Cheated.
The next thing adviseable is,
Since Schism so strangely abounds;
To oppose e’ery Man that’s set up
By Dissenters, in Corporate Towns:
For High-Church, and Low-Church, has brought us to no Church,
And Conscience so bubbl’d the Nation;
For who is not still for Conformity Bill,
Will be surely a R—— on Occasion.
A SONG.
Set by Mr. Anthony Young.
[[Listen]]
SINCE Cælia only has the Art,
And only she can Captivate,
And wanton in my Breast;
All other Pleasure I despise,
Than what are from my Cælia’s Eyes,
In her alone I’m blest.
Whene’er she Smiles, new Life she gives,
And happy, happy who receives,
From her Inchanting Breath;
Then prithee Cælia smile once more,
Since I no longer must adore,
For when you frown ’tis Death.