You brave loyal Churchmen, That ever stood by the crown, Have you forgot that n.o.ble prince Great Charles of high renown, That from his rights was banish'd By Presbyterians, who Most cruelty his father kill'd? - O cursed, d.a.m.ned crew!

So let the bells in steeples ring, And music sweetly play, That loyal Tories mayn't forget The twenty-ninth of May.

Twelve years was he banish'd From what was his just due, And forced to hide in fields and woods From Presbyterian crew; But G.o.d did preserve him, As plainly you do see, The blood-hounds did surround the oak While he was in the tree.

So let, etc.

As Providence would have it, The hounds did lose their scent; To spill the blood of this brave prince It was their whole intent.

While that he was in exile, The Church they pull'd down, The Common-prayer they burnt, sir, And trampled on the crown.

So let, etc.

They plunder'd at their pleasure, On lords' estates they seiz'd, The bishops they did send away, They did just as they pleas'd.

But General Monk at last rose up, With valiant heart so bold, Saying, that he no longer By them would be controul'd.

So let, etc.

So in great splendour At last he did bring in, Unto every Torie's joy, Great Charles our sovereign.

Then loyal hearts so merry The royal oak did wear, While balconies with tapestry hung - Nothing but joy was there.

So let, etc.

The conduits they with wine did run, The bonfires did blaze, In every street likewise the skies Did ring with loud huzzas, - Saying, G.o.d bless our sovereign, And send him long to reign, Hoping the P-n crew May never rule again.

So let, etc.

Soon as great Charles Our royal King was crown'd, He built the Church up again, The meetings were pull'd down.

No canting then was in the land, The subjects were at peace, The Church again did flourish, And joy did then increase.

So let, etc.

The cursed Presbyterian crew Was then put to the flight, Some did fly by day, And others run by night.

In barns and stables they did cant, And every place they could; He made them remember The spilling royal blood.

So let, etc.

May G.o.d for ever Bless the Church and Crown, And never let any subject strive The King for to dethrone.

May Churchmen ever flourish, And peace increase again; G.o.d for ever bless the King, And send him long to reign.

So let, etc.

Ballad: The Jubilee, Or The Coronation Day

From Thomas Jordan's "ROYAL ARBOR OF LOYAL POESIE," 12mo, 1664. Mr Chappell states - "As this consists of only two stanzas, and the copy of the book, which is now in the possession of Mr Payne Collier, is probably unique, they are here subjoined."

Let every man with tongue and pen Rejoice that Charles is come agen, To gain his sceptre and his throne, And give to every man his own; Let all men that be Together agree, And freely now express their joy; Let your sweetest voices bring Pleasant songs unto the King, To crown his Coronation Day.

All that do thread on English earth Shall live in freedom, peace, and mirth; The golden times are come that we Did one day think we ne'er should see; Protector and Rump Did put us in a dump, When they their colours did display; But the time is come about, We are in, and they are out, By King Charles his Coronation Day.

Ballad: The King Enjoys His Own Again

(1661.) - From Hogg's Jacobite Relics.

Whigs are now such precious things, We see there's not one to be found; All roar "G.o.d bless and save the King!"

And his health goes briskly all day round.

To the soldier, cap in hand, the sneaking rascals stand, And would put in for honest men; But the King he well knows his friends from his foes, And now he enjoys his own again.

From this plot's first taking air, Like lightning all the Whigs have run; Nay, they've left their topping square, To march off with our eldest son: They've left their 'states and wives to save their precious lives, Yet who can blame their flying, when 'Twas plain to them all, the great and the small, That the King would have his own again?

This may chance a warning be (If e'er the saints will warning take) To leave off hatching villany, Since they've seen their brother at the stake: And more must mounted be (which G.o.d grant we may see), Since juries now are honest men: And the King lets them swing with a hey ding a ding, Great James enjoys his own again.

Since they have voted that his Guards A nuisance were, which now they find, Since they stand between the King And the treason that such dogs design'd; 'Tis they will you maul, though it cost them a fall, In spight of your most mighty men; For now they are alarm'd, and all Loyalists well arm'd, Since the King enjoys his own again.

To the King, come, b.u.mpers round, Let's drink, my boys, while life doth last: He that at the core's not sound Shall be kick'd out without a taste.

We'll fear no disgrace, but look traitors in the face, Since we're case-harden'd, honest men; Which makes their crew mad, but us loyal hearts full glad, That the King enjoys his own again.

Ballad: A Country Song, Int.i.tuled The Restoration

(May, 1661.) - From the twentieth volume of the folio broadsides, King's Pamphlets.

Come, come away To the temple, and pray, And sing with a pleasant strain; The schismatick's dead, The liturgy's read, And the King enjoyes his own again.

The vicar is glad, The clerk is not sad, And the parish cannot refrain To leap and rejoyce And lift up their voyce, That the King enjoyes his own again.

The country doth bow To old justices now, That long aside have been lain; The bishop's restored, G.o.d is rightly adored, And the King enjoyes his own again.

Committee-men fall, And majors-generall, No more doe those tyrants reign; There's no sequestration, Nor new decimation, For the King enjoyes the sword again.

The scholar doth look With joy on his book, Tom whistles and plows amain; Soldiers plunder no more As they did heretofore, For the King enjoyes the sword again.

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 G.o.d 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.