Ballad: A New Ballad To An Old Tune, - Tom Of Bedlam

January 17th, 1659. - From the King's Ballads, British Museum.

Make room for an honest red-coat (And that you'll say's a wonder), The gun and the blade Are the tools, and his trade Is, for PAY, to KILL and PLUNDER.

Then away with the laws, And the "Good old Cause;"

Ne'er talk of the Rump or the Charter; 'Tis the cash does the feat, All the rest's but a cheat, Without THAT there's no faith nor quarter.

'Tis the mark of our coin "G.o.d WITH US,"

And the grace of the Lord goes along with't.

When the GEORGES are flown Then the Cause goes down, For the Lord has departed from it.

Then away, etc.

For Rome, or for Geneva, For the table or the altar, This sp.a.w.n of a vote, He cares not a groat - For the PENCE he's your dog in a halter, Then away, etc.

Tho' the name of King or Bishop To nostrils pure may be loathsome, Yet many there are That agree with the May'r, That their lands are wondrous toothsome.

Then away, etc.

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 d.i.c.k 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, G.o.d 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.

Whilst divines and statesmen wrangle, Let the Rump-ridden nation bite on't; There are none but we That are sure to go free, For the soldier's still in the right on't.

Then away, etc.

If our masters won't supply us With money, food, and clothing, Let the State look to't, We'll find one that will do't, Let him live - we will not d.a.m.n.

Then away, etc.

Ballad: Saint George And The Dragon, Anglice Mercurius Poeticus

"The following ballad," says Mr Wright in the Political Ballads of the Commonwealth, published for the Percy Society, "was written on the occasion of the overthrow of the Rump by Monck. He arrived in London on the third of February, and professed himself a determined supporter of the party then uppermost. On the ninth and tenth he executed their orders against the city; but suddenly on the eleventh he joined the city and the Presbyterian party, and demanded the readmission of the members who were secluded formerly from the Long Parliament. This measure put an end to the reign of the Rump, and immediately afterwards the Parliament dissolved itself, and a new one was called. - (February 28th, 1659.)" - All the notes to this Ballad are from the pen of Mr Wright.

To the tune of "The Old Courtier of the Queen's," etc.

News! news! here's the occurrences and a new Mercurius, A dialogue betwixt Haselrigg the baffled and Arthur the furious; With Ireton's (50) readings upon legitimate and spurious, Proving that a saint may be the son of a wh.o.r.e, for the satisfaction of the curious.

From a Rump insatiate as the sea, Libera nos, Domine.

Here's the true reason of the citie's infatuation, Ireton has made it drunk with the cup of abomination; That is, the cup of the wh.o.r.e, after the Geneva Interpretation, Which with the juyce of t.i.tchburn's grapes (51) must needs cause intoxication.

From a Rump, etc.

Here's the Whipper whipt by a friend to George, that whipp'd Jack, (52) that whipp'd the breech, That whipp'd the nation as long as it could stand over it - after which It was itself re-jerk'd by the sage author of this speech: "Methinks a Rump should go as well with a Scotch spur as with a switch."

From a Rump, etc.

This Rump hath many a rotten and unruly member; "Give the generall the oath!" cries one (but his conscience being a little tender); "I'll abjure you with a pestilence!" quoth George, "and make you remember The 'leaventh of February (53) longer than the fifth of November!"

From a Rump, etc.

With that, Monk leaves (in Rump a.s.sembled) the three estates, But oh! how the citizens hugg'd him for breaking down their gates, For tearing up their posts and chaynes, and for clapping up their mates (54) (When they saw that he brought them plasters for their broken pates).

From a Rump, etc.

In truth this ruffle put the town in great disorder, Some knaves (in office) smiled, expecting 'twould go furder; But at the last, "My life on't! George is no Rumper," said the Recorder, "For there never was either honest man or monk of that order."

From a Rump, etc.

And so it proved; for, "Gentlemen," says the general, "I'll make you amends; Our greeting was a little untoward, but we'll part friends; A little time shall show you which way my design tends, And that, besides the good of Church and State, I have no other ends."

From a Rump, etc.

His Excellence had no sooner pa.s.s'd this declaration and promise, But in steps Secretary Scot, the Rump's man Thomas, With Luke, their lame evangelist (the Devil keep 'um from us!) (55) To shew Monk what precious members of Church and State the b.u.mm has.

From a Rump, etc.

And now comes the supplication of the members under the rod: "Nay, my Lord!" cryes the brewer's clerk; "good, my Lord, for the love of G.o.d!

Consider yourself, us, and this poor nation, and that tyrant abroad; Don't leave us:" - but George gave him a shrugg instead of a nodd.

From a Rump, etc.

This mortal silence was followed with a most hideous noyse, Of free Parliament bells and Rump-confounding boyes, Crying, "Cut the rogues! singe their tayles!" when, with a low voyce, "Fire and sword! by this light," cryes Tom, "Lets look to our toyes!"