Ballad: The Dominion Of The Sword

A song made in the Rebellion.

From the Loyal Garland, 1686. To the tune of "Love lies a bleeding."

Lay by your pleading, Law lies a bleeding; Burn all your studies down, and Throw away your reading.

Small pow'r the word has, And can afford us Not half so much privilege as The sword does.

It fosters your masters, It plaisters disasters, It makes the servants quickly greater Than their masters.

It venters, it enters, It seeks and it centers, It makes a'prentice free in spite Of his indentures.

It talks of small things, But it sets up all things; This masters money, though money Masters all things.

It is not season To talk of reason, Nor call it loyalty, when the sword Will have it treason.

It conquers the crown, too, The grave and the gown, too, First it sets up a presbyter, and Then it pulls him down too.

This subtle disaster Turns bonnet to beaver; Down goes a bishop, sirs, and up Starts a weaver.

This makes a layman To preach and to pray, man; And makes a lord of him that Was but a drayman.

Far from the gulpit Of Saxby's pulpit, This brought an Hebrew ironmonger To the pulpit.

Such pitiful things be More happy than kings be; They get the upper hand of Thimblebee And Slingsbee.

No gospel can guide it, No law can decide it, In Church or State, till the sword Has sanctified it.

Down goes your law-tricks, Far from the matricks, Sprung up holy Hewson's power, And pull'd down St Patrick's.

This sword it prevails, too, So highly in Wales, too, Shenkin ap Powel swears "Cots-splutterer nails, too."

In Scotland this faster Did make such disaster, That they sent their money back For which they sold their master.

It batter'd their Gunkirk, And so it did their Spainkirk, That he is fled, and swears the devil Is in Dunkirk.

He that can tower, Or he that is lower, Would be judged a fool to put Away his power.

Take books and rent 'em, Who can invent 'em, When that the sword replies, NEGATUR ARGUMENTUM.

Your brave college-butlers Must stoop to the sutlers; There's ne'er a library Like to the cutlers'.

The blood that was spilt, sir, Hath gain'd all the gilt, sir; Thus have you seen me run my Sword up to the hilt, sir.

Ballad: The State's New Coin

The coinage issued during the Protectorate of Cromwell, consisted of pieces having on the obverse side a shield with St George's cross, encircled by a laurel and palm branch, and the words, "The Commonwealth of England." On the reverse side was the legend, "G.o.d with us," and two shields, bearing the arms of England and Ireland.

Saw you the State's money new come from the Mint?

Some people do say it is wonderous fine; And that you may read a great mystery in't, Of mighty King Nol, the lord of the coin.

They have quite omitted his politic head, His worshipful face, and his excellent nose; But the better to show the life he had led, They have fix'd upon it the print of his hose.

For, if they had set up his picture there, They needs must ha' crown'd him in Charles's stead; But 'twas cunningly done, that they did forbear, And rather would set up aught else than his head.

'Tis monstrous strange, and yet it is true, In this reformation we should have such luck; That crosses were always disdain'd by you, Who before pull'd them down, should now set them up.

On this side they have circ.u.mscribed "G.o.d with us,"

And in this stamp and coin they confide; COMMON-WEALTH on the other, by which we may guess That G.o.d and the States were not both of a side.

On this side they have cross and harp, And only a cross on the other set forth; By which we may learn, it falls to our part Two crosses to have for one fit of mirth!

Ballad: The Anarchie, Or The Blest Reformation Since 1640

Being a new song, wherein the people expresse their thankes and pray for the reformers.

To be said or sung of all the well-affected of the kingdome of England, and dominion of Wales, before the breaking up of this unhappy Parliament.

[From the King's Pamphlets, British Museum. It is printed but incorrectly in the "Rump Songs," ed. 1665, under the t.i.tle of "The Rebellion."]

To a rare new Tune. (Oct. 24, 1648.)

Now that, thankes to the powers below!

We have e'ne done out our doe, The mitre is downe, and so is the crowne, And with them the coronet too; Come clownes, and come boyes, come hober-de-hoyes, Come females of each degree; Stretch your throats, bring in your votes, And make good the anarchy.

And "thus it shall goe," sayes Alice; "Nay, thus it shall goe," sayes Amy; "Nay, thus it shall goe," sayes Taffie, "I trow;"

"Nay, thus it shall goe," sayes Jamy.

Ah! but the truth, good people all, The truth is such a thing; For it wou'd undoe both Church and State too, And cut the throat of our King.

Yet not the spirit, nor the new light, Can make this point so cleare, But thou must bring out, thou deified rout, What thing this truth is, and where.

Speak Abraham, speak Kester, speak Judith, speak Hester, Speak tag and rag, short coat and long; Truth's the spell made us rebell, And murther and plunder, ding-dong.

"Sure I have the truth," sayes Numph; "Nay, I ha' the truth," sayes Clemme; "Nay, I ha' the truth," sayes Reverend Ruth; "Nay, I ha' the truth," sayes Nem.