Into the countrey places I resolve to goe, Amongst those sun-burnt faces I'le goe to plough Or keep a cow, 'Tis that my masters now again must do.

Souldiers ye see will be of each religion, They're but like stars, which when the true sun rise they're gon.

I'le to the countrey goe, and there I'le serve Sir John; Aye, aye, 'tis thither, and thither will I goe.

London, printed for Charles Gustavus, 1660.

Ballad: The Courtier's Health; Or, The Merry Boys Of The Times

(A.D. 1672.) - From the Roxburgh Ballads, Vol. ii. To the tune of "Come, Boys, fill us a b.u.mper."

Come, boys, fill us a b.u.mper, Wee'l make the nation roar, She's grown sick of a RUMPER, That sticks on the old score.

Pox on phanaticks, rout 'um, They thirst for our blood; Wee'l taxes raise without 'um, And drink for the nation's good.

Fill the pottles and the gallons, And bring the hogshead in, Wee'l begin with a tallen, A brimmer to the King.

Round, around, fill a fresh one, Let no man bawk his wine, Wee'l drink to the next in succession, And keep it in the right line.

Bring us ten thousand gla.s.ses, The more we drink we're dry; We mind not the beautiful la.s.ses, Whose conquest lyes all in the eye.

Fill the pottles, etc.

We boys are truly loyal, For Charles wee'l venture all, We know his blood is royal, His name shall never fall.

But those that seek his ruine May chance to dye before him, While we that sacks are woeing For ever will adore him.

Fill the pottles, etc.

I hate those strange dissenters That strives to hawk a gla.s.s, He that at all adventures Will see what comes to pa.s.s: And let the Popish nation Disturb us if they can, They ne'er shall breed distraction In a true-hearted man.

Fill the pottles, etc.

Let the fanatics grumble To see things cross their grain, Wee'l make them now more humble Or ease them of their pain: They shall drink sack amain too, Or they shall be choak't; Wee'l tell 'um 'tis in vain too For us to be provok't.

Fill the pottles, etc.

He that denyes the brimmer Shall banish'd be in this isle, And we will look more grimmer Till he begins to smile: Wee'l drown him in Canary, And make him all our own, And when his heart is merry Hee'l drink to Charles on's throne.

Fill the pottles, etc.

Quakers and Anabaptists, Wee'l sink them in a gla.s.s; He deals most plain and flattest That sayes he loves a la.s.s: Then tumble down Canary, And let our brains go round, For he that won't be merry He can't at heart be sound.

Fill the pottles, etc.

Printed for P. Brooksly, at the Golden Ball in West Smithfield, 1672.

Ballad: The Loyal Tories' Delight; Or A Pill For Fanaticks

Being a most pleasant and new song.

1680. - From the Roxburgh Ballads, Vol. iii., fol. 911.

To the tune of "Great York has been debar'd of late, etc."

Great York has been debar'd of late From Court by some accursed fate; But ere long, we do not fear, We shall have him, have him here, We shall have him, have him here.

The makers of the plot we see, By d.a.m.n'd old TONY'S treachery, How they would have brought it about, To have given great York the rout, To have given, etc.

G.o.d preserve our gracious King, And safe tydings to us bring, Defend us from the SHAM BLACK BOX, (114) And all d.a.m.n'd fanatick plots, And all d.a.m.n'd, etc.

Here Charles's health I drink to thee, And with him all prosperity; G.o.d grant that he long time may reign, To bring us home great York again, To bring us home, etc.

That he, in spight of all his foes Who loyalty and laws oppose, May long remain in health and peace, Whilst plots and plotters all shall cease, Whilst plots, etc.

Let Whigs go down to Erebus, And not stay here to trouble us With noisy cant and needless fear, Of ills to come they know not where, Of ills to come, etc.

When our chief trouble they create, For plain we see what they'd be at; Could they but push great York once down They'd next attempt to s.n.a.t.c.h the crown, They'd next attempt, etc.

But Heaven preserve our gracious King, May all good subjects loudly sing; And Royal James preserve likewise, From such as do against him rise, From such as do, etc.

Then come, again fill round our gla.s.s, And, loyal Tories, less it pa.s.s, Fill up, fill up unto the brim, And let each boule with necture swim, And let each boule, etc.

Though CLOAKMEN, that seem much precise, 'Gainst wine exclaim with turn'd-up eyes; Yet in a corner they'l be drunk, With drinking healths unto the Rump, With drinking, etc.

In hopes that once more they shall tear Both Church and State, which is their prayer; But Heaven does yet protect the throne, Whilst Tyburn for such slaves does groan, Whilst Tyburn, etc.

For now 'tis plain, most men abhor, What some so strongly voted for; Great York in favour does remain, In spight of all the Whiggish train, In spight of all, etc.

And now the OLD CAUSE goes to wrack, Sedition mauger cloath in black Do greatly dread the triple tree, Whilst we rejoyce in loyalty, Whilst we rejoyce, etc.

Then come, let's take another round, And still in loyalty abound, And wish our King he long may reign To bring us home great York again, To bring us home great York again.

Ballad: The Royal Admiral

Miss Strickland quotes this ballad in her Lives of the Queens of England, and states that this was the first Jacobite song that was written and set to music.

Let t.i.tus (115) and Patience (116) stir up a commotion, Their plotting and swearing shall prosper no more; Now gallant old Jamie commands on the ocean, And mighty Charles keeps them in awe on the sh.o.r.e.

Jamie the Valiant, the Champion Royal, His own and the monarchy's rival withstood; The bane and the terror of those the disloyal, Who slew his loved father and thirst for his blood.

York, the great admiral, - Ocean's defender, The joy of our navy, the dread of its foes, The lawful successor, - what upstart pretender Shall dare, in our isle, the true heir to oppose?