The
CAVALIER SONGS AND BALLADS
OF ENGLAND

From 1642 to 1684

EDITED BY
CHARLES MACKAY
LL.D.

LONDON
GRIFFIN BOHN AND CO
STATIONERS' HALL COURT
1863.

p. iiJOHN CHILDS & SON, PRINTERS.

The Cavalier Ballads of England, like the Jacobite Ballads of England and Scotland that came later, are a treasure trove for anyone studying the history and social customs of our ancestors. The rough yet often beautiful political lyrics of the early days of the Stuarts were far more engaging and significant to the people who heard or recited them than any similar works can be today. When the printing press was mainly a tool for debate among the educated few and when daily newspapers were neither a luxury for the poor nor a necessity for the rich, the song and the ballad resonated with the passions, if not the intellect, of the masses and informed them about the key events of the time. Nowadays, people don't need information of that kind, as they obtain it from the much more accessible and abundant, if not necessarily more reliable, daily and weekly press. Songs and ballads no longer address public affairs. New ones of that sort only pop up as poor parodies and burlesques that might entertain sober street vendors and half-drunken men in pubs late at night, but which annoy everyone else. The genuine old ballads that remain popular are either quickly fading away or focus solely on eternal themes of love, war, and wine. Today's people show little interest or appreciation for song, except in Scotland and Ireland. England and America are too mundane and busy, and despite all their supposed advantages in education, the masses are far too vulgar to enjoy any songs or ballads that reach the level of real poetry. They may laugh at the antics of “Negro Minstrelsy” and the silliness of sentimental love songs, but the elegance of writers like Thomas Moore and the power of strong thinkers and tender lyricists like Robert Burns are beyond their grasp and reserved for scholars and genteel ladies in their salons. It was a different story for our ancestors p. v during the notable period of the fight for freedom that began under Charles I. The Puritans had the pulpit on their side and used it effectively. The Cavaliers had songwriters on their side, who were equally powerful. The song and ballad writers of that time weren’t always uneducated rhymers; some were among the most witty and skilled gentlemen in the country. Because they couldn’t reach their fellow countrymen through printed books, pamphlets, or newspapers, nor stand in the pulpit to debate Puritanism directly, they turned to songs, ballads, and epigrams, which were better suited to a musically inclined English public, and relied on these to maintain the spirit of loyalty during the tough times for the royal cause, to instill courage in hardship, and to encourage cheerfulness in all situations, while mocking the hypocrites they couldn’t shame and the tyrants they couldn’t overthrow. Although many thousands have been preserved in the King’s Pamphlets in the British Museum and in other collections that have been thoroughly searched for materials for the following pages, many more have undoubtedly been lost. p. vi Originally printed as broadsides and sold for a halfpenny at country fairs, it was once common practice for peasants to paste them up in cupboards or on the backs of doors. Farmers’ wives, along with maidservants and farm workers who could read, would often glue them on their trunk lids as a way to preserve them. This is one reason why so many have been lost without a trace. To Sir W. C. Trevelyan, literature owes the recovery of a few of these lost gems, which he found affixed in an old trunk from the Cromwell era and carefully removed to present to the British Museum. Yet, a sufficient number of these flying leaves of satire, sentiment, and loyalty have survived to provide a curious and informative look at the feelings of those who opposed the rise of the English Revolution, who made loyalty to the monarch—even when the monarch was wrong—the foremost civic virtue. With the abundance of materials available, as shown in the accompanying list of books and manuscripts consulted to create this collection, the challenge was to keep it concise and select only those pieces worth including in a limited volume, based on p. viitheir popularity, wit, beauty, historical significance, or the insights they provide into the obscure lives of the key figures in the events they depict. It would be too much to claim these ballads as high poetry. They aren’t poetically elevated in the truest sense, and they might not have been as effective for their intended purpose if their authors had been more fanciful and imaginative, or less focused on their message than on their style. However, if they aren’t extremely poetic, they are distinctly national and characteristic of the local culture, and some are sure to endure as long as the language that created them. For ease of reference, they’ve been arranged chronologically, starting with the discontents that marked the beginning of Charles I's reign, and following through to the brief but conclusive success of the Cavalier cause upon the accession of James II. After his ill-fated rise to the throne, the Cavalier transformed into the Jacobite. This collection does not include proper Jacobite songs, as the publishers plan to release a companion volume on the Jacobite Ballads of England, from James II's accession to the Battle of p. viiiCulloden, should the public respond favorably enough to justify the endeavor.

The Editor cannot, in fairness to previous collaborators, skip mentioning his gratitude for the engaging book, along with its insightful notes, provided by Mr. Thomas Wright to the Percy Society; or for another equally valuable collection, edited by Mr. J. O. Halliwell.

December 1862.

Ashmolean Museum Collection.

Antidote to Sadness, 1682.

Apollo’s Banquet, 1690.

More manuscripts.

Aviary, 1740–1745.

Broadsides during the reign of Charles II.

„ „ „ Roxburghe Ballads.

Butler, Samuel, Posthumous Works, 1732.

Burney's Collection of Songs.

Ballads, six, from the time of Charles II, in the British Museum.

Bagford’s Collection [qu. date].

Brome's, Alex, Songs [qu. date].

Music Banquet, 1689.

Bull’s, Dr, Collection of Songs [qu. date].

* Collection of State Songs that have been published since the Rebellion, and sung at the various taverns in the Cities of London and Westminster, 1716.

* Collection of Loyal Songs, 1750 [Jacobites].

Complete Collection of Old and New English and Scottish Songs, 1735.

Craig's Collection, 1730.

Convivial Singer, 1782.

Golden Rose Crown Garlands.

Carey's, Henry, Music Centus, 1740.

p. xvi* D’Urfey’s Songs (4 volumes) or Pills to Cure Melancholy.

Douce's Collection, Oxford.

Delightful Companion for the Recorder, 1686.

Dixon's Ballads of the Peasants of England.

English Political Songs and Ballads of the 17th and 18th Centuries, by Walker Wilkins.

Evans' Old Ballads, 1810.

England under the House of Hanover, by Thos. Wright.

Folly in Print, or a Book of Rhymes, 1667.

Golden Garlands of Royal Delights, 1620.

Harleian Manuscripts.

Halifax's Songs, 1694.

Halliwell’s Collection of Ballads, “Cheetham Library.”

Hogg's Jacobite Artifacts of Scotland.

Jordan's, Thomas, London Triumph, 1672.

King's Library.

„ Pamphlets—Collection of Political Songs, from 1640 to the Restoration of Charles II.

Kitchener, Dr, Loyal and National Songs.

Loyal Songs, 120, 1684, by N. Thompson.

180, 1685 to 1694.

Loyal Songs, 1731.

* Loyal Songs written against the Rump Parliament, between 1639 and 1661.

Loyal Garland, featuring selected Songs, etc., from our recent Revolution, 1761, and 5th Edition, 1686, Percy Society.

Merry Drollery, full edition, 1670.

Muses’ Merriment, 1656. See “Sportive Wit.”

Musical manuscripts, British Museum.

Musical Collection, Watts.

Muse’s Delight, 1757, or “Apollo’s Cabinet.”

Old Ballads, 1723, British Museum.

Playford’s Music and Mirth—“Douce’s Collection.”

"Choice Songs, etc."

p. xviiPlayford’s Theatre of Music, 1685.

,, Nice Music Partner.

Catch that catch can.

"Antidote for Melancholy, 1669."

Political Fun.

* Pills to Purge Melancholy, 1661.

Parker's, Martin, Ballads, Roxburghe Collection.

Political Ballads, Percy Society, Wright’s Collection.

Pepys' Collection, British Museum.

Rats rhymed to Death, 1660; King’s Pamphlets, British Museum.

Roxburghe Ballads, 3 vols.

Rump Collection of Songs, 1639 to 1661. See Loyal Songs.

Ritson's Ancient Songs, 1790.

English

Ramsay, Allan, Tea-table Miscellany, 1724.

Rome rhymed to Death [qu. date].

Sporty Humor; the Muse’s Fun [qu. date].

Skene Manuscripts.

Suckling’s, Sir John, Works [qu. date].

Second Tale of a Tub, 1715.

Funny Songs About Costumes.

True Loyalist, or Chevalier’s Favorite, 1779.

Triumph of Wit, or Ingenuity on Display.

Taubman’s, Mat., Heroic and Choice Songs of the Times, 1682.

Westminster Drollery, 1671.

* Wit and Mirth, or Pills to Cure Sadness.

Wit returned, 1658.

Wit’s Recreation, 1654

Williams’, Sir Charles Hanbury, Political Songs.

Wood’s, Anthony, Collection at Oxford [Ashmolean].

Withers, George, Songs.

Wade’s, John, Ballads [query date].

This is probably the most famous of all the Cavalier songs—a popularity it owes in part to the great melody it’s paired with. The song, according to Mr. Chappell, is confirmed to be by Martin Parker based on this excerpt from the Gossips’ Feast, or Moral Tales, 1647. “By my word, Martin Parker never had a better reception: no, not even when he wrote that lovely ballad, When the King enjoys his own again.” In the poet’s Blind Man’s Bough (or Buff), 1641, Martin Parker states,

but this song was printed without his name or initials, at a time when it would have been dangerous to reveal either his own name or that of his publisher. Ritson describes it as the most famous song of any time or country. Created to support the waning interest in Charles I, it later helped uplift the spirits of the Cavaliers and promote the restoration of his son; an event for which it was used to celebrate all across the kingdom. During the Revolution of 1688, it became associated with the exiled King, whom it never abandoned. It served equally well in 1715 and 1745. The tune seems to have originally been known as Marry me, p. 2marry me, quoth he, bonnie lass. Booker, Pond, Hammond, Rivers, Swallow, Dade, and “The Man in the Moon” were all astrologers and almanac makers in the early days of the civil war. “The Man in the Moon” seems to have been a loyalist in his predictions. Hammond’s Almanac is referred to as “bloody” because the compiler always made sure to note the anniversary of the death, execution, or downfall of a Royalist.

What Booker predicts
   About the fate of kings or kingdoms?
   I consider myself as wise
   As someone who stares at the stars;
My knowledge goes deeper than any Pond,
   Or Rivers in the heaviest rain,
That’s how I know everything will be fine
   When the King has his own back again.

There’s no Swallow, Dove, or Dade,
That can fly higher or dive deeper,
Nor explain from the stars
What brings about peace or civil wars;
The Man in the Moon might wear out his shoes
Trying to catch up with Charles's cart:
But it’s all pointless, because things won’t get better
Until the King gets back what’s rightfully his.

Though for a while we see Whitehall
With cobwebs hanging on the wall
Instead of bold silk and silver,
Which it used to have,
With rich perfume in every room,—
Pleasant to that princely entourage,
Which you will see again, when the time comes,
That the King enjoys his own once more.

p. 3For a full forty years, the royal crown
Has belonged to his father and him;
Is there anyone else who should share it?
Who could better hold the sceptre
Than someone with such a rightful claim to rule?
Then let’s hope for peace, because the wars won’t end
Until the King gets back what is rightfully his.

[Did Walker have no predictions
In Hammond’s grim almanac?
Foretelling events that would come,
That all turns out right, if lies are true;
But why couldn’t he see the pillory,
Where poor Toby was once taken?
And shouldn’t he have known he would go to the gallows
When the King gets back what’s his?] [1]

Till then on Ararat’s hill
My hope will still hold fast,
Until I see a peaceful dove
Bring home the branch I love so much;
Then I’ll wait until the waters calm
That now disturb my troubled mind,
Otherwise I won’t rejoice until I hear the news
That the King has his own again.

From a broadside in the Roxburghe Collection of Ballads. It seems to have been written shortly after Martin Parker’s original ballad became popular among the Royalists, and it appears to be from a different author. It has no date or printer's name; and it ends with “God save the King, Amen” in large letters.

Oxford and Cambridge will come to an agreement,
With honor and dignity on their side;
For knowledgeable people will then be recognized,
And the unworthy will be shamed and silenced:
They’ll realize it was just a chance occurrence
That has troubled their minds for so long;
For I can confidently say that everything will be alright
When the King returns home in peace.

Church governance will be established,
And then I hope we can come to an agreement
Without the intervention of those whose misguided passion
Has long disrupted the common good;
Greed is outdated, and those who talk
About wars that still trouble them;
You will see this when the time comes
That the King returns home peacefully.

Though many are now heavily in debt,
And many stores are up for rent,
A great time is coming soon,
When shops will thrive with their goods;
And then all our business will be thriving,
To which we will soon arrive;
For I still believe everything will be fine
When the King returns home in peace again.

p. 5Girls will be with their partners,
And honest men will reclaim their fortunes;
Women will finally have what they’ve missed,
Their husbands, who are returning.
When the wars come to a close, my friend and I
Will ensure everyone’s freedom;
And I can assure you that everything will be okay
When we experience sweet peace once more.

Though people now live in great fear
Across the countryside everywhere,
Thieves will then shake at the law,
And justice will keep them in check:
The French will flee with their deceit,
And the enemies of the King will be left ashamed:
You will see this when the time comes
That the King returns home in peace again.

The Parliament needs to be willing
So that everyone can clearly see
How hard they work for peace,
So these bloody wars can come to an end;
Because they’re ready to give their lives to defend
The King’s right to rule:
Then I can say everything will be fine
When we have sweet peace once more.

When all these things come to pass
Then goodbye Musket, Pick, and Drum,
The Lamb will feed with the Lion,
That would truly be a happy time.
p. 6Oh, let us pray we all witness the day
That peace reigns in his name,
For then I know everything will be fine
When the King returns home in peace again.

From Songs and Other Poems by Alex. Brome, Gent. Published in London 1664; written 1645.

I love my King and country a lot,
      Religion and the laws;
I’m really upset that we ever sold
      To support the good old cause.
         These unnatural wars
         And sibling conflicts
      Bring me no happiness or joy;
         But it’s my wish
         That the wars should end,
      And the King and his countries come together.

I’ve never taken up arms,
      And yet I’m brave enough to stand my ground;
But I won’t be tempted by fanatical allure
      Until I understand the reason why.
         Why the King and
         the state
      Should engage in a debate
      I’ve never been able to see a reason,
         But I find many reasons
         Why the wars should end,
      And why the King and his realms should come together.

p. 7I love the King and the Parliament,
      But I love them both together:
And when they’re torn apart by division,
      I know it’s not good for anyone.
         Whichever side wins,
         I’m sure it won’t be good for us,
      Because our troubles will grow
         Unless we have peace,
      And the King and his realms come to an agreement.

The King can’t last long without them,
      Nor can they last without the King;
They need to give advice, and he needs to give orders,
      Because their power comes from his.
         It’s a tough situation
         When no one will obey;
      If the King doesn’t have his authority, how can we?
         They can vote and make laws,
         But they won’t do any good
      Until the King and his people are in agreement.

A true religion I would want,
      Not mixed with human cleverness;
And I can't stand that every clueless fool
      Should have the nerve to interfere with it.
         The tricks of the law
         I would gladly remove,
      So it may be equal for everyone:
         And I would prefer those
         Who interfere so much,
      To be in line with the King and the church.

p. 8We have prayed and prayed for the wars to end,
      and for us to be free men;
I would fight if my fighting would bring any peace,
      but war has become a business.
         Our servants used to ride
         with swords by their sides,
      and made their masters foot soldiers;
         But we’ll no longer be slaves
         to the beggars and crooks
      now that the King and the realms have come to an agreement.

Written in 1645 to the Club-men, by Alex. Brome.

Come on your ways,
Happy guys
Of the town,
For now is your time or never:
Will your
Fears
Or your worries
Bring you down?
Let go of your
Wealth
And your
Health,
Aim for fame.
We are all doomed forever,
Now the King and the crown
Are falling apart,
p. 9And the realm is groaning with disasters;
And the worst of the land
Are the ones in charge,
And our slaves have become our masters.

Now our lives,
Kids, wives,
And property,
Are at the mercy of greed and theft,
To the anger
Of our times;
And the fate
Of our land
Is near;
It’s too late
To crush these usurpers.
First the crown falls,
Then the gown follows,
This is how we’re leveled by the Roundhead;
While Church and State must
Satisfy their pride and their greed,
And the kingdom and king be thrown into chaos.

Shall we still
         suffer wrong
            And stay silent,
      And let every scoundrel take advantage of us?
         Shall we doubt
         Of each fool
            That comes our way,
         With a voice
         Like the sound
            Of a drum,
      And a sword or a jacket to threaten us?
      p. 10Shall we lose our property
      Through robbery and taxes,
To dress those arrogant upstarts who strut around?
      Better to fight for your food
      That those locusts devour,
Now every man’s a beggar.

By Alex. Brome. Written 1646.

Come on pass the bowl to me,
Here’s to our troubled King;
Even though we’re in confinement, let’s drink freely,
Birds in a cage can still sing.
The earth toasts health far away
When storms arise, so why shouldn’t we?
Sadness doesn’t dare to show itself
When we’re like ships, and wine is the sea.

Curse this sadness, forget about money, let’s sing;
Should we end our lives out of fear of dying?
We’ll survive on the air that songs create,
Our sighing just wastes our breath.
So let’s not be unhappy,
Nor drink a glass less of wine;
They’re foolish to think their troubles are over
When they see we’re not complaining.

We’re not suffering here alone,
   Even though we’re on the streets, so is the King;
It’s a sin to have wealth when he has none,
   Come on! Being poor has its own kind of nobility!
p. 11When we’ve had enough to drink,
   We’ll feel just as dizzy as they do,
Our feet will lift, our bodies will drop
   Easily with the wind like nobles.

Fill this strange quart with sherry,
Nature avoids all emptiness;
We’ll become a zodiac,
And every mouth will be a sign.
I think the movement of the glass
Is circular, like Plato’s year;
Where everything is just as it was
Let’s drink in circles: and so it is
here.

By Alex Brome, 1648.

Since it has to be this way,
               Then let it happen,
Let the wild times keep spinning;
Since we have no king, let the cup be raised,
   Our monarchy will bounce back:
      While the jugs are pouring out tears,
               We’ll soak our sad souls
               In big bowls;
      Our sorrows will steep in wine,
   And we’ll drink until we’re overflowing;
               And we'll prove with reason
               That it’s not treason
To drink and to sing
A cheerful toast to our newly crowned King.

p. 12Let's all stand together;—
               In the presence we are,
Let our noses shine like bonfires;
Instead of the rain, let the bottles pour wine,
   To celebrate this new coronation;
      And we who are loyal
               In drinks shall be equals,
               While that face that drinks
      Rich red wine, looks like royalty,
   And boldly faces the nation's struggles:
               As a sign of loyalty,
               Our pledge of allegiance
Shall be beer glasses,
And anyone who drinks ten is of the noble class.

But if during this reign The armed forces Or the constable should rebel, And boost their unruly militia, And take up arms against the King’s side; Then the barmaids, like yeomen Of the guards, with large mugs Will get the drunks all mixed up, While we make them both cuckolds and free men; And stir things up with their wives. So as each toast goes around We’ll raise our glasses higher, And see no shame In being loyal and drinking in defense of our King.

By Alex Brome.

Now goodbye, London,
You must be ruined next,
Because you've already ruined us;
This issue and this tyrant
Would never have caused this big scene
If it weren't for your silver and gold.

Now we have to leave you,
With the boundaries that surround you,
And the red-coated leaders control;
Who trick you with the idea of freedom,
While a monster controls you,
And you feel what you once feared.

Now justice and freedom,
With the laws that created them,
   Are sent to Jamaica for gold,
And those who upheld them
Have power but rarely,
   For justice is traded and sold.

Now the Christian faith
Must explore a new area,
And the old saints step aside for the new;
And we who are loyal
Bow down to those who tear everything apart,
When the Christian gives way to the Jew.

p. 14But this is our pride,
In this miserable tale
Misfortunes happen to the best;
And those that harm us
Do better use us,
To sing until they’re put to rest.

From the King’s pamphlets, British Museum.

We have a King, and yet no King,
For he has lost his power;
For against his will his subjects are
Imprisoned in the Tower.

We had some laws (but now there are none)
By which he kept his crown;
And we had rights and freedoms,
But now they’ve been voted away.

We had religion, but lately
It’s been beaten down with clubs;
While that authorized disrespect
Is spewed out in tubs.

We were born free, but now
We are forced to be slaves,
By some we thought were our friends,
But turned out to be deceitful.

p. 15And now to such a painful point
Have our troubles escalated,
That our possessions are taken away
By schemes we've never encountered before.

For there are agents sent abroad
Most humbly to ask
For our donations; but if they are denied,
And have nothing from us,

Then by a vote ex tempore
We are sent to prison,
Marked as enemies,
To the King and Parliament:

And during our imprisonment,
   Their lawless bulls plunder
A license for their soldiers,
   To loot our houses.

And if their dogs happen to pick up the scent
Of a man who's doing well,
Whose wallet is full,
Which is pretty uncommon now;

A monster now, delinquent term’d,
He is said to be,
And that his lands, as well as goods,
Should be confiscated.

As if our prisons were too nice,
He is being sent to Yarmouth,
Because of a warrant from
The King and Parliament.

p. 16So, in the name of our royal ruler,
And with his powerful influence,
And by the authority it holds,
He and everyone wronged by him.

For now his castles
Are under the control of those
Who deceitfully, with all their strength,
Are trying to overthrow him.

Rise up, brave British men,
Fight for your King and country,
Against those treacherous men who are trying
To ruin this realm.

It’s Pym, it’s Pym and his
colleagues,
Nothing but their lives can end our troubles,
And keep us safe.

Hogg, in his second series of Jacobite Relics, states that he “found this song among some old papers owned by Mr. Orr of Alloa,” and that he never came across it anywhere else. In his first series, he printed a Scottish song beginning,—

“Then a man came from the moon
And landed in our town, sir,
And he swore a serious oath
That everyone except fools must bow down, sir.”

In Martin Parker’s earlier ballad, “When the King enjoys his own again,” there is also a reference to the man in the moon:—

p. 17“The Man in the Moon
May wear out his shoes
By chasing after Charles's chariot;”

as it looks like the “Man in the Moon” was the name taken by an almanac-maker during the Commonwealth period, who, like other astronomers and astrologers, predicted the King’s return. In this song, the “Man o’ the Moon” clearly represents King Charles.

The man of the moon forever!
The man of the moon forever!
We’ll still drink to him
In a cheerful cup of ale,—
Here’s to the man of the moon forever!

The man in the moon, cheers to him!
How few really know him!
But we'll still toast to him
With a cheerful drink of beer,—
The man in the moon, cheers to him!

Brave man of the moon, we salute you,
A true heart will never let you down;
For the day that’s passed
And the day that’s ours—
Brave man of the moon, we salute you.

We have seen the bear stand over you,
And the winter clouds cover you,
But the moon has changed
And here we are lined up,—
Brave man of the moon, we wait for you.

The man of the moon forever!
The man of the moon forever!
   p. 18We’ll toast to him still
   In a cheerful pint of ale,—
Here’s to the man of the moon forever!

We have mourned that the land would avoid you,
And have never stopped grieving for you,
   But despite all our sorrow
   There was no comfort,—
Now, man of the moon, come back to us.

There’s Orion with his golden belt,
And Mars, that blazing wanderer,
   But of all the stars
   That light up the nights,
The man in the moon forever!

By Samuel Butler (Author of Hudibras).
To the tune of “The Old Courtier of the Queen’s.”

With a face and style to be recognized,
With eyes so white and many sighs,
With a crooked neck and a whiny voice,
And a handkerchief freshly blown from the nose,
And sweet talk directed at sister Joan;
It’s a new teacher in town,
Oh! the town’s new teacher!

With a deceptive laugh and a hollow cheek,
To gather new groups every week,
With a simple mind as a person can speak,
p. 19With some basic Hebrew, and no Greek,
With hesitations when looking for things;
It’s a new teacher, etc.

With hair shorter than the eyebrows,
With a small band, just like you know,
With a cloak like Paul, no coat for sure,
With no surplice, nor belt anymore,
With hands that thump, nor knees that bow;
It’s a new teacher, etc.

With shop-board breeding and interference,
By some bizarre institution,
With Calvin’s approach and conclusion,
To throw everything into chaos,
And far-reaching sighs for just an illusion;
It’s a new teacher, etc.

With threats of total damnation,
But the promise of some salvation
To his new group, not every nation,
With chosen ones and the condemned,
And with some comfort to offer;
   It’s a new teacher, etc.

With troops waiting for him at the door
To listen to a sermon and nothing more,
And women following him in plenty,
And with large Bibles to flip through,
While Tom takes notes, like bar boys keep score,
   ’Tis a new teacher, etc.

p. 20With a double cap to cover his head,
It looks like a black pot tipped with tin;
While he makes silly gestures, gaping and grinning;
The sisters are impressed, and he charms them;
Who think it's not wrong to deceive their husbands;
It’s a new teacher, etc.

With grand fake spiritual gestures,
And lots of quirky ideas,
With blind enthusiasm and deep commitments,
With stirring up rebellion and causing disturbances,
And poisoning the people with Geneva potions;
   It’s a new teacher, etc.

From the King’s pamphlets, British Museum. Satires in the form of a litany were common from 1646 to 1746, and even later.

From a spontaneous prayer and a spiritual song,
From the harsh rule of a city,
From the authority of a local committee,
               Deliver us, Lord.

From the Turk, the Pope, and the Scottish nation,
From being governed by proclamation,
And from an old Protestant, totally out of style,
               Libera, etc.

p. 21From interfering with things beyond our control,
From a priest who fights, and a soldier who teaches,
From a clueless person who writes, and a woman who educates,
               Libera, etc.

From the principle of removing a king,
From the Directory, [2] or anything like that,
From a nice new marriage without a ring,
               Libera, etc.

From a city that gives in at the first call,
From stealing goods, whether from a man or a woman,
Or dealing with the House of Commons,
               Libera, etc.

From a stumbling horse that falls again and again,
From escorting a lady, or walking ahead,
From an English-Irish rebel, freshly arrived,
[3]
               Libera, etc.

From mixing things together, or hanging in a silk altar,
From promises and agreements, and being crushed in a mortar,
From donations, or free supplies,
               Libera, etc.

p. 22From stale bread, and old beer,
From a holiday's fasting, and a Friday's joy,
From brotherhood, and a lady knight,
               Libera, etc.

From Nick Neuter, for you, and for you,
From Thomas Turn-coat, who will never be true,
From a reverend Rabbi who’s worse than a Jew,
               Libera, etc.

From a local justice that still seems significant,
From consuming the Italian fig,
Or discovering the Scottish jig,
               Libera, etc.

From being tricked in disguise,
From believing the printed lies,
From the Devil and from the Excise, [4]
               Libera, etc.

From a shattered head with a beer mug,
For battling over something I don't even know,
And from a friend as untrustworthy as a Scot,
               Libera, etc.

From someone who speaks nonsense, yet says everything he can,
From an old woman and a politician,
From an Anabaptist and a Presbyterian,
               Libera, etc.

p. 23From Irish rebels and Welsh troublemakers,
From Independents and their speakers,
From sheriffs’ bailiffs and their supporters,
               Libera, etc.

From someone who doesn’t care what they say,
From a trusting person who never pays,
From a private preacher with a public faith,
               Libera, etc.

From a bragging horse and a Roundhead in buff,
From loud Jack Cavee, with hardly any cash,
From beads and other idolatrous things,
               Libera, etc.

From holidays, and everything sacred,
From Maypoles and musicians, and all that’s cheerful
From Latin or studying, since that is pointless,
               Libera, etc.

And now to wrap things up,
I wish the Roundheads would take a dive,
Or at least get hanged in Goldsmith’s Hall.
               Amen.

God bless.

Against all sects
   And their supporters,
Both Presbyterians
   And Independents.

Mr. Walter Wilkins, in his Political Ballads of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries, states that the imprint of this broadside p. 24suggests it was published in "the year of Hope, 1647," and Thomson, the collector, specified the exact date, September 7th.

That you will be happy to grant our requests,
And completely eliminate all the vipers' nests,
That trouble England and her true religion,
               We beg you to listen to us.

That you will kindly judge with compassion
The current state of our once-great city;
Let it still be governed by fair and clever men,
               We ask you, etc.

That you will be kind enough to consider the Tower,
And all other prisons under the Parliament’s control,
Where King Charles’ friends find their welcome but bitter,
               We ask you, etc.

That you will be kind enough to see the sorrow
Of the King’s loyal servants and provide them help,
Restore to the yeomen of the Guard cuts of beef,
We beg you, etc.

That you will be pleased to quickly return
To his rightful place our wronged King,
So that he may find happiness in everything,
               Te rogamus, etc.

That Whitehall may shine in its original brightness,
That Parliament may call everyone together,
That wrongdoers may be punished by those who are fair,
               We ask you, etc.

p. 25Now that the dog days are completely over,
Let those annoying dogs, who have tested our patience,
Receive what true justice demands,
               Te rogamus, etc.

That you will be pleased to incline conquering Thomas
(Who has now taken both the city and the Tower from us),
So that he may be just in fulfilling his promise,
                     We ask you, etc.

That our hopeful Prince and our gracious Queen
(Whom we haven't seen here in England for a long time)
May soon be restored to what they once were,
               Te rogamus, etc.

That the other royal offspring may be
From their Parliamentary guardians released,
And be maintained according to their status,
               We ask you, etc.

That our ancient Liturgy can be restored,
That the organs (so abhorred by sectarians)
Can play divine praises, in line with the word,
               Te rogamus, etc.

That the wedding ring, the cross at the font,
Which the devil and the Roundheads so strongly opposed,
May be used again, just like they were before,
               Te rogamus, etc.

p. 26That Episcopacy, when used properly,
In England might once again gain traction,
So that Scottish and unruly groups may fade away,
               Te rogamus, etc.

That you will be willing to restore
Everything to its proper order, as it was before,
So the Church and the State may be troubled no more,
               We ask you, etc.

That all the King’s friends can enjoy their lands,
And not be stuck, as they have been, at low prices,
That the poor can find comfort again at their doorsteps,
               We ask you, etc.

That you will remove all our oppressions,
And grant us steadfast faith and hope, combined with true love,
Convert or confound everything that virtue condemns,
               We ask you, etc.

That all annoying groups that want to live
without anyone controlling them,
And refuse to be governed, as all citizens should,
Can head to New England, or stay peacefully in the Old,
               We ask you, etc.

That gracious King Charles, with his children and wife,
Who have long suffered through this civil strife,
May end their natural life with great honor,
               Te rogamus, etc.

p. 27Those who have taken honest people's treasures,
Only for their loyalty to God and to Caesar,
May, in due time, get what they deserve,
               We ask you, etc.

That you will send all these blessings upon us,
We are not Independents, we depend on You,
And as we believe, protect us from all harm;
               Te rogamus, etc.

From a collection of songs, 1640 to 1660. It can also be found in the additional MSS., No. 11, 608, p. 54, in the collection at the British Museum. It was sung to the tune of Love lies bleeding — and was, according to Mr. Chappell, “the God save the King” of Charles I, Charles II, and James II.

What if the fanatics take down the bishops,
Push against the pulpit, and attack the crown,
Shouldn't we once more strive,
Aim to secure our royal glory?
Won't the Roundhead be the first to be defeated?
Ha, ha, ha, say, guys, ha, ha, ha, ha, guys,
Then we'll come back with victory and joy.
Then we'll celebrate, drink white wine and sherry,
Then we'll sing, guys, God save the King, guys,
Throw up our hats, and shout, Long live the King.

What if wise Alderman Isaac
throws us in jail and takes our land,
even if we're made to get off our horses
and walk as fate sees fit;
p. 28In the King’s army no one will hurt you.
So come on, guys, brave and strong, guys,
fight for your property, which the Roundheads enjoy;
And when you try to enter London,
And when you arrive, guys, with fife and drum, guys,
Isaac himself will shout, Long live the King.

If you choose them, don’t turn them down,
Since a fair Parliament never made thieves,
Charles won’t allow criminals involved in murder,
Not through leases, long lives, or pardons.
It’s the terms and proposals
That won’t be granted, so don’t be discouraged,
We’ll enjoy our honest old customs;
Paul isn’t rejected, will be honored,
And in the choir voices rise higher,
Thanks to the heavens, and (shout), Long live the King.

By Samuel Butler. From his Posthumous Works. A somewhat different version appears in Chappell’s Popular Music of the Olden Time.

He who is a
            true Cavalier
Will not complain,
            Even if
His wallet gets
            So very light
He can’t buy wine.

p. 29Luck is a girl
            Who will support,
But quickly bring down;
            Born free,
In freedom
            We’ll always be,
Singing Long live the King.

Virtue is its own reward,
And Fortune is untrustworthy;
Only fools and crooks pay attention to her,
Or ask for her favors.
But he who is a loyal Roger,
And will serve the King;
Even if he’s a ragged soldier,
He can still dance and sing:
While we who fight for love,
Can prove in the name of honor
That those who mock us
May not measure up to us;
Fate may flatter them,
And will disperse them;
While our loyalty
Observes royalty,
We who live peacefully,
May ultimately be
Crowned with success at last.

Though a truly honest man
May find himself in a tough spot,
He’ll show his loyalty,
Love, and obedience;
Those will lift him up,
Honor supports him,
p. 30Virtue
keeps him steady,
And we commend him.
While the shallow courtiers feast,
With their glasses full of wine,
Honor will keep him strong.
So let’s be honest men
And challenge fate,
For we might live to see
Our loyalty
Valued more highly.
He who wields a sword
Or speaks out against the throne,
And disrespectfully talks
To undermine the state,
Has no regard for his own.

What if painted feathers and prayers
Are the successful men,
Yet we’ll focus on our own business
Until they come back again;
Treachery can be faced with bravado,
And lust can be dressed in luxury;
A cuckold can be made a knight,
Sing Fortune de la Guerre.
But what does that matter to us, brave boys,
Who are truly honest men?
We’ll conquer and return,
Beat the drum again;
Hey for Cavaliers,
Hoe for Cavaliers,
Drink for Cavaliers,
Fight for Cavaliers,
p. 31Dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub,
Let’s go for Old Beelzebub,
Oliver stinks with fear.

Fifth Monarchy-men must go down, guys,
With supporters from every group in town, guys;
We’ll gather and do it again,
Send them packing again;
Move fast like lightning,
Turn to the right,
Charge at them again
When they come at us again;
Sing Tantara rara, guys,
Tantara rara, guys,
This is the life of an Old Cavalier.

From the Posthumous Works of Samuel Butler.

I come to warn you
      To oppose the clergy,
And take the mitre off the bishop's head,
      Just be careful
      So you don’t fail
In all those rebellious attitudes you’ve created;
But as for Brownists, we want nothing to do with them,
So take them all and hang them one by one.

Your wicked actions
Joined in groups
Are all just plans to rob the King of what he deserves;
p. 32Then provide this excuse
For your betrayal,
That you’ll be in charge, if he’ll listen to you.
Then abandon these groups, eager brother,
Or you might end up hanging each other.

This song, according to Mr. Chappell in his *Popular Music of the Olden Time*, humorously reflects the tastes of the Puritans and could be seen as a Puritan song if it weren't included in the *Shepherds’ Oracles* by Francis Quarles, 1646. He was the cup-bearer to Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, the daughter of James I, and later served as the chronologer for the city of London. He passed away in 1644, and his *Shepherds’ Oracles* were published after his death. It was frequently reprinted during the Restoration and was adapted with minor changes by Thomas Durfey in his *Pills to Purge Melancholy,* where the refrain is, “Hey, boys, up go we.”

Understand this, my friends, heaven is clear,
And all the clouds are gone;
The righteous person will thrive now,
Good days are on the way.
So come, my friends, and be happy,
And also rejoice with me;
Lawn sleeves and rochets will fade away,
And hey, then, up we go.

We’ll smash the windows that the
Whore of Babylon has decorated,
And when the Catholic saints are gone,
Then Barrow will be honored;
p. 33There won't be any cross or crucifix
For people to see,
Rome’s garbage and nonsense will fall,
And hey, then, here we go.

Whatever the Catholic Church has built
Our hammers will break down;
We’ll smash their pipes and burn their robes,
And tear down churches too;
We’ll gather in the groves,
And teach beneath a tree;
We’ll use a barrel for a pulpit,
And hey, then, up we go.

We'll put down universities,
Where learning is claimed,
Because they practice and uphold
The language of the Beast;
We'll drive the doctors out the door,
And all who are knowledgeable;
We'll dismiss all arts and learning,
And hey, then, up we go.

We’ll hang out with the deans and prebends, too,
And I'm glad to tell you
We’ll then enjoy plenty of pig,
And capons to satisfy our hunger.
We’ll burn the heavy books of the Fathers,
And make the scholars run away;
We’ll get rid of everything that smells of intelligence,
And hooray, then, up we go.

If the Antichristian group
is crushed and defeated,
p. 34We’ll show the nobles how to bow,
And keep the upper class in check:
Good manners have a bad reputation,
And lead to arrogance, as we know,
So we’ll get rid of good manners,
And hey, then, we’ll rise up.

The name of lords will be despised,
   Because every person is a sibling;
There’s no reason for one person to dominate
   Another in Church and State;
But when the government changes
   And gives us our freedom,
We’ll make these arrogant women bow,
   And then, let’s rise up.

What if the King and Parliament
don’t get along,
We have more reasons to be happy,
this is our bright day:
Because if reason were to win,
and they came to an agreement,
Who would want to be in a Roundhead’s situation,
because then we’d be in trouble.

What should we do about this?
Let’s take a chance;
If we can last for seven years,
We’ll break our contract.
There might be a time that makes us regret,
And time might set us free,
Unless the gallows calls for us,
And then, well, up we go.

To the tune of “Hey, then, let's go.”
From a Collection of Loyal Songs written against the Rump Parliament.

Battle on, brave soldiers, for the cause,
Don't be afraid of the Cavaliers;
Their threats are as pointless as
Our jealousies and fears.
It's up to you to complete this great task,
And defeat all the enemies;
You must restore the King again
In the opposite way.

It’s for your faith that you fight,
And for the good of the kingdom;
By robbing churches, plundering them,
And shedding innocent blood.
Down with the orthodox crowd,
All loyal subjects must die;
When they’re gone, we’ll be blessed
The exact opposite way.

When we’ve bankrupted Charles,
   Stripped of power and crown,
And all his loyal subjects dead,
   With only rebels around;
When we’ve impoverished the whole country,
   And sent our belongings away,
We’ll then make him a glorious prince,
   In the completely opposite way.

p. 36It’s to protect his Majesty
That we fight against him,
Nor are we ever pushed back,
Because our cause is just:
If anyone has a doubt about
Our statements, just say,—
Those who fight for us, fight for the King
In exactly the opposite way.

At Keinton, Brainsford, Plymouth, York,
And several other places,
What victories we saints achieved,
The likes of which have never been seen before:
How often we took down Prince Rupert,
And courageously won the day,
The wicked Cavaliers fled
In the exact opposite direction.

The true religion we uphold,
The kingdom’s peace and prosperity;
The rights of Parliament
Not known to one and twenty;
The ancient fundamental laws,
And teach people to obey
Their rightful ruler, and all these
The exact opposite way.

We protect our freedoms
Through imprisonment and looting,
And we enrich ourselves and the state
By keeping the wicked in check.
We must support the workers now
To teach and pray;
Through them, the gospel is promoted
In the completely opposite way.

p. 37And even though the King is greatly misled
   By that wicked group,
He’ll ultimately see our honesty,
   and give each of us our due.
For we strategically plan, and plan
   to soften rebellion,
He recognizes we stand for peace and truth
   in a completely opposite way.

The public faith will save our souls
And our good deeds together;
And ships will keep us alive, just waiting
For wind and weather:
But when our faith and deeds fail us
And all our hopes fade away,
Our actions will lift us up to heaven
The exact opposite way.

A famous song from Hogg’s Jacobite Relics; it was popular among the Cavaliers of both England and Scotland during the days of the Commonwealth. It was typically sung to a psalm tune, with the singers mimicking the style and manner of a precentor in a Presbyterian church.

There was a Cameronian cat
Was hunting for a prey,
And in the house she caught a mouse
On the Sabbath day.

p. 38The Whig, feeling insulted
By such a disrespectful act,
Put down his book, grabbed the cat,
And tied her up with a chain.

You damned, cursed creature,
   This dark deed of yours,
Do you really think you can drag me and
   My holy wife down to hell?

Make sure that for the act
You will pay blood for blood,
For killing the Lord's own mouse
On the Sabbath day.

The priest set down the book,
And prayed sincerely
That the huge sin the cat had committed
Would not be placed on him.

And right to execution
Poor kitty was dragged,
And hung high up on a tree—
The preacher sang a psalm.

And when the work was done,
They thought the cat was almost dead,
She raised a paw, then let out a meow,
And stretched her head.

Your name, he said, will always
be a guiding light,
a source of fear for the wicked
forever, Amen.

A Loyal Song of the Royal Feast held by the Prisoners in the Tower, last August, with the Names, Titles, and Characters of each Prisoner. By Sir F. W., Knight and Baronet, Prisoner. (Sept. 16th, 1647.)

“In the negotiations between the King and Parliament during the summer and autumn of this year,” says Mr. Thomas Wright in his Political Ballads of the Commonwealth, published for the Percy Society, “the situation of the royalist prisoners in the Tower often came up for discussion. They took this chance to complain about the harsh treatment (which seemed to be exaggerated) they faced, and on June 16, 1647, ‘A True Relation of the Cruel and Unparalleled Oppression That Has Been Illegally Imposed on the Gentlemen Prisoners in the Tower of London’ was published. The various petitions included in this document bear the signatures of Francis Howard, Henry Bedingfield, Walter Blount, Giles Strangwaies, Francis Butler, Henry Vaughan, Thomas Lunsford, Richard Gibson, Tho. Violet, John Morley, Francis Wortley, Edw. Bishop, John Hewet, Wingfield Bodenham, Henry Warren, W. Morton, John Slaughter, and Gilbert Swinhow.”

On August 19th (according to the Moderate News from that date), the King sent two big bucks to the royal prisoners in the Tower for a feast. This event inspired the current ballad. It was written by Sir Francis Wortley, one of the prisoners. As we learn from the final lines, this ballad was meant to be sung to the popular tune of “Chevy Chace.”

God save the greatest of kings, King Charles!
The greatest of queens, Queen Mary!
All the ladies, Gloucester and York,
Prince Charles, so much like old Harry! [5]

p. 40May God return to the King what’s his,
   His tower and all his treasures!
And bless all the kings who will reign,
   Against traitors and thieves!
   The King sent us, poor traitors, here
      (But you can guess the reason)
   Two pairs of bucks to lift our spirits,
      Is it not treason to eat them?

Let Selden check Cotton's records,
And Rowley in the Tower,
They can't match the president,
It's beyond their power.
Old Collet would have loved to see
This president documented;
For all the papers he ever saw
Rarely offered such a one.
The King sent us, etc.

But so they know these traitors,
I’ll boldly name them;
If they ever prove traitors,
Then this record may shame them:
But these are well-tested loyal folks
(If England ever had any),
Search both Houses inside and out,
You’d hardly find so many.
The King sent us, etc.

The first and most important marquis [6] is,
   He struggled long with the State;
p. 41If Ogle [7] had done as much as he,
   He would have ruined Will Waller’s castle.
Ogle had wealth and title acquired,
   So he gave up his commissions;
The noble marquis wouldn't back down,
   But rejected all dishonorable terms.
         The King sent us, etc.

The next worthy bishop [8] is,
Hated by the schismatics;
But I could never understand the reason,
Nor see the explanation.
The cries were loud, God knows the reason,
They had a strange committee,
Which was active for almost a year,
They showed little mercy.
The King sent us, etc.

The next to him is a Welsh Judge, [9]
Durst tell them what treason is;
p. 42Old honest David would be good
When it wasn't convenient;
He would reveal all the tricks
The lawyers play, and their deceit,
And show the clever schemes they use
To trap us into slavery.
The King sent us, etc.

Frank Wortley [10] has a cheerful spirit,
Yet he was never a good club member;
He's all for the bishops and the church,
But he can't stand any tub-thumper.
He told Sir Thomas in the Tower,
Even though he was ruined by him,
It made him happy that he lost more men
In capturing him than London did.
The King sent us, etc.

Sir Edward Hayles [11] was incredibly wealthy,
No flower in Kent gives honey
In more abundance to the bee
Than they get money from him;
Yet he’s as cheerful as the best—
Judge Jenkins sees no reason
That honest people for their wealth should be
Accused of high treason.
The King sent us, etc.

p. 43Old Sir George Strangways [12] when he arrived,
Although he accepted it,
Still, as a traitor, he must be
Excluded and imprisoned:
Now they’re lifting the exception,
But not the confiscations,
He must indeed go to Goldsmith’s Hall,
The place of despair.
The King sent us, etc.

Honest Sir Berr is a real man,
As ever was wrapped in leather;
But he (God bless us) loves the King,
And that’s why he was sent here.
He dared to be sheriff and dared to inform
The Parliament about
What he intended to do,
And for this, he was charged.
The King sent
us, etc.

Sir Benefield, [13] Sir Walter Blunt,
Are into the Catholic thing,
So is honest Frank from Howard’s line,
And there's suspicion of murder. [14]
p. 44But how the hell did this happen,
That Catholics are so loyal,
And those who call themselves God’s saints
Like demons seem to destroy everything?
The King sent us, etc.

Jack Hewet [15] will have good meat,
And enjoy some nice wine, if there is any;
His hospitality is generous and tidy,
His selection of friends isn’t large;
Jack is a loyal-hearted guy,
Well-spoken and educated;
He'll complain if things don't please him,
But he never gets overly angry.
The King sent us, etc.

Gallant Sir Thomas, [16] bold and strong
(Brave Lunsford), children eat;
But he makes sure, wherever he eats one,
There he gets a hundred;
When Harlow’s wife brings her long bills,
He wishes she were blind;
When she speaks loudly, as loudly he swears
The woman’s focused on the material.
The King sent us, etc.

p. 45Sir Lewis [17] has a skilled pen,
Can beat a committee into submission;
He makes them give him reasons, even though
They don’t show him any compassion.
Brave Cleaveland had good intentions,
Frank Wortley wasn't capable,
But Lewis earned four pounds a week
For his kids and his meals.
The King sent us, etc.

Giles Strangwayes [18] has a brave spirit,
A tireless mind;
Whatever he decides to study,
He’s sure to master it:
He digs into his theories,
And logarithms for numbers;
He loves to talk about Lewis Dives, [19]
And they are never apart.
The King sent us, etc.

Sir John Marlow’s [20] a loyal man
(If England ever produced one),
p. 46He beat the peddler front and back,
He killed many Scots.
If General King [21] had done what he needed to,
And faced the blue-caps in battle,
We'd make them all run into Tweed
In herds, like summer cattle.
The King sent us, etc.

Will Morton's [22] of that Cardinal’s race,
Who made that blessed marriage;
He is most loyal to his King,
In action, word, and demeanor;
His sword and pen defend the cause,
If King Charles doesn’t think of him,
Will is among the rest finished,—
May the Lord have mercy on him!
The King sent us, etc.

Tom Conisby [23] is hefty and serious,
Yet has a kind nature;
To those he cares for, his wrongdoing was significant,
He read the King’s orders,
And asked Cranborn to help;
He demanded, but should have requested;
p. 47Tom was so bold he insisted
Everyone should assist him for the King.
The King sent us, etc.

But I win. Bodnam [24] had forgotten,
Had endured so much hardship;
There’s no man in the Tower who had left
The King such a young ward;
He’s loyal to both the church and crown,
The crown's law and the canon;
The Houses put him to the test,
And his wife’s father Mammon.
The King sent us, etc.

Sir Henry Vaughan [25] looks serious
As any beard can make him;
Those who come as poor prisoners to see
Do for our patriarch take him.
Old Harry is truly loyal,
As brave as Pendragon;
And would be loyal to his King,
Even if King Charles had nothing to wear.
The King sent us, etc.

John Lilburne [26] is a sharp blade,
And understands the issue;
p. 48He won't flatter kings, bishops, lords,
Or the House of Commons:
John doesn't love any power privilege,
Except that which comes from Sion;
As for the mitre and the crown,
He views those two with suspicion.
The King sent us, etc.

Tom Violet [27] claims his injuries
Are hardly countable;
He was held captive by the State
For these twenty-nine days and nine hundred;
Because Tom keeps track of all the days,
And hopes he has good debtors;
It wouldn't be treason (Jenkin says)
To send them friendly letters.
The King sent us, etc.

Poore Hudson [28] was the last,
   Because it was his downfall,
He encountered a traitor who claimed that he
   Was once loyal to King Charles;
p. 49So he was quickly taken to London,
   But arrived at a time when,
Their military court had been disbanded,
   So they couldn’t put him on trial for treason.
         The king sent us, etc.

Else Hudson had gone to the pot,
   Who can stand him?
For he was the King's master,
   And (what's more) led him.
If Hudson had done (like Judas did),
   Most loyally betrayed him,
The Houses are so noble that
   They would have paid him back just as bravely.
      The King sent us, etc.

We'll wrap up with hearty toasts
To King Charles and Queen Mary;
To the young prince in buff,
So much like his grandfather Harry;
To York, to Gloucester; can we not
Send the Turk and the Pope our defiance,
Since we have such brave allies
To strengthen our alliance?
We'll drink to them over and over again,
Or else we're ungrateful creatures;
Since Charles, the wise, the brave King,
Considers us loyal traitors.

This, if you want to call it a rhyme,
(Feel free to name it whatever you like),
One of the loyal traitors here
Wrote it as a ballad:
p. 50Old Chevy Chace was on his mind;
If anyone thinks of a better name,
Everyone involved in the song
Will graciously thank the creator.

Charles I, after surrendering to the English Commissioners by the Scots, was taken to Holmby House in Northamptonshire on February 16, 1647.

Hang in there, brave Charles, and you will win the battle;
You can’t lose yourself unless you give in
On terms that would make you hand over your sceptre, crown, and land.
And what’s worse, by your defeat,
   You risk losing an even greater crown, worth more than everything.

Your poor, distressed Cavaliers rejoiced
To hear your royal resolution expressed,
And are willing to be much poorer
Than they already are, just to reflect you.
You are still our sovereign, despite the hate;
Our loyalty is to your person, not your state.

We’re not so ambitious as to want
Our declining fortunes to rise higher,
And you, such a great ruler, to our sorrow,
Must appeal to your subjects for help:
And when they sit and discuss it for a long time,
   They must either wait for it or do without.

p. 51No, dear prince, your friends value you even more
In your troubles than they ever did before;
And even though their wings are clipped, their hopes soar
To heaven by the millions, asking for a fresh supply.
That as your cause was so betrayed by men,
   It may by angels be restored again.

OR

A street ballad. From a broadside, 1647.

The hierarchy is outdated,
Our monarchy has been struggling lately,
But now it’s become an excellent state:
         Oh, God have mercy, Parliament!

The teachers didn't know what to say,
The apprentices are allowed to play,
The people have all forgotten to pray;
         Still, God have mercy, Parliament!

The Roundhead and the Cavalier
Have been fighting for almost seven years,
And yet, it seems to me, they're no closer to a resolution:
         Oh, God, etc.

The upper class is secluded away;
You can find our wives at Goldsmith Hall,
Because that's where they come together with all sorts of trouble;
         Still, God, etc.

p. 52The Parliament has gotten so powerful
They don’t care at all what the King says;
And they settle all their debts with public trust.
         Oh, God, etc.

Though everything we have here is worthless,
In Ireland, we have entire lordships purchased,
There, we believe we will be wealthy one day:
         Still, God,

We must abandon our mom and dad,
And for the State betray our own brother
And never stop killing one another:
         Oh, God,

Now the King is captured and the devil is gone;
Fairfax has to be disbanded,
Or he might end up like Hotham.
         Still, God,

They have made King Charles a magnificent king,
He was told, a long time ago, that this would happen;
Now he and his people have every reason to celebrate,
         Oh, God,
etc.

(Aug. 13, 1647.)

The city of London held several demonstrations this year to back the Presbyterian party in Parliament against the Independents and the army. At the end of September, after the army marched into London and Parliament acted under its influence, the Lord Mayor and many of the aldermen were taken to the Tower on charges of high treason, and the Parliament appointed a new mayor for the remainder of the year.

To the tune of “London is a nice place and a great city.”

Why? were your train bands causing such a commotion?
   Why did you send them out in groups?
Then why did you go into Saint James’s Park?
   Why did you hold their muster there?
Why did my Lord ride up Fleet Street
   With at least twenty coaches,
And they say filled with aldermen,
   As if it would have been better if they were empty?
London is a great city,
   Yet I feel sorry for their situation;
Their mayor and a few aldermen
   Have completely ruined the city.

The apprentices are brave young men,
And they’re loyal to the king;
But the lord mayor and the aldermen
Aren’t as sharp as they should be.
I’ll pay for the apprentices,
They were dedicated to the king;
Because they’ve done everything they could
To support their sovereign’s cause.
London, etc.

What has happened to your brave Poyntz?
   And what about your General Massey? [29]
p. 54If you ask for peace,
   These guys will attack you.
Where are your soldiers now?
   They’ve gone off to Scotland:
It would be better if they were properly tied up
   Than if they brought them over there.
         London, etc.

But if your city council members were untrustworthy,
Or Glyn, your recorder! [30]
Let them never deceive you again,
But hang them up properly.
All these men can be trained just like
Any other wrongdoer
Up Holborne, and keep riding on,
To Tyburn for their punishment.
London,
&c.

God grant that the brave General may
   Bring the King back to glory! [31]
Then the name I've honored so
   Will be famous in history;
But if he doesn't, I'm very afraid
   Of the ruin of the nation,
And (which I really don't want to see)
   His family's devastation.
         London, etc.

From a Collection of Loyal Songs, 1610 to 1660.

Not finished! undone! the lawyers shout,
They rush back and forth;
We don't know how to Westminster
Now that Charing-Cross is gone.
Goodbye, old Charing-Cross,
And goodbye, old stump;
It was put up by a King,
And taken down by the Rump.

And when they reached the end of the Strand
They were all confused:
This isn’t the route to Westminster,
We need to go via Charing-Cross.
Then goodbye, etc.

The Parliament voted it down
Because they thought it was best,
For fear it would collapse, and endanger them all
While they were in session.
Then goodbye, etc.

Some letters about this Cross were found,
   Or else it might have been freed;
But I dare say, and can safely promise,
   It could neither write nor read.
      Then goodbye, etc.

The Whigs say and claim
   It was aimed at Popery;
p. 56For all I know, that could be true,
   Since it never went to church,
      So goodbye, etc.

This cursed Rump-Rebellious Crew,
   They were so incredibly hard-hearted;
They voted that Charing-Cross
   Should be torn down and carted away:
      Then fare thee well, etc.

Now, Whigs, I would suggest to all of you,
It’s what I want you to do;
For fear the King might come back,
Please take down Tyburn as well.
Then take care, etc.

Charing Cross, as it was before the civil wars, was one of those stunning Gothic obelisks created out of love by Edward I, who built one wherever the hearse of his beloved Eleanor paused on its journey from Lincolnshire to Westminster. But neither its beautiful location, the elegance of its design, nor the noble purpose behind its construction (which honored humanity) could save it from the brutal fervor of the era; in 1647, it was ordered to be destroyed by the House of Commons, deemed Papist and superstitious. This led to the following rather humorous sarcasm, which has often been printed among the popular sonnets of that time.

The plot mentioned in verse 3 was that which involved Mr. Waller the poet and others, intending to bring the city and Tower under the King's control; for this, two of them, Nath. Tomkins and Richard Chaloner, were executed on July 5, 1643. Vid. Ath. Ox. 11. 24.—Percy’s Reliques of Ancient English Poetry.

p. 57Unfinished! undone! the lawyers
   They roam around the town,
And can't find their way to Westminster
   Now that Charing-Cross is gone:
At the end of the Strand, they stop,
   Swearing they’re completely lost,
And jokingly say, that’s not the way,
   They have to go by Charing-Cross.

The Parliament voted it down
Thought it very appropriate,
Out of fear it might crash down and kill them all
While they were sitting in the House.
They were warned, who knows, it had a scheme,
Which made them so ruthless,
To order it not to remain,
But to be taken down and hauled away.

Men discuss schemes; it could have been worse,
For all I know,
Than that Tomkins and Chaloner
Were hanged long ago.
Our Parliament prevented that,
And wisely defended them,
For they will still uncover plots
Before they're even planned.

But no man, woman, or child
Will say, I’m sure,
They ever heard it say a word
Against the Parliament.
An informer claimed it had letters,
Or else it would have been set free;
I swear on my Bible oath
It could neither write nor read.

p. 58The Committee said they’d check
To see if it was Catholic:
For all I know, it could be true,
Since it never went to church.
With taxes and such schemes,
The country is starting to believe
You won’t leave them any crosses
Inside or outside.

I think the City Council should
have some compassion for it,
Because, let's be honest, it always stood
so firmly in the city.
Since you disapprove of crosses so much,
Honestly, if I were you,
To avoid the King taking control again
I’d tear down Tyburn too.

Whitlocke says, “On May 3rd, 1643, Cheapside Cross and other crosses were voted down,” etc. When this vote was actually carried out isn't clear; likely not until many months after Tomkins and Chaloner had suffered.

We recently came across a really interesting account of the demolition of Cheapside Cross that was published in one of the issues of the Gentlemen’s Magazine, 1766.—Percy’s Reliques.

By John Cleveland.

Most gracious and all-powerful,
And eternal Parliament,
   Whose authority and grandeur
p. 59Are
greater than all kings combined;
And to consider you less than gods
   Would surely be blasphemy.

Moses and Aaron never did
More wonders than what you’ve done
For England’s Israel;
But even though we’ve crossed the Red Sea,
If you finally bring us to Canaan,
Isn’t that a miracle—?

In six years, you've accomplished more
Than all the parliaments before;
   You've really done the job.
The King, the Cavalier, and Pope,
You've brought them down, and next we hope
   You'll defeat the Turk.

By you we have freedom
From the schemes of Spain and France,
Ormond, Montrose, the Danes;
You, supported by our Scottish brothers,
Have defeated harmful plots,
And turned your sword against Cain.

What great laws you've established,
That protect our property,
   Against those who would ruin us;
So that our wealth and our lives,
And what’s even more precious, our wives,
   Are completely secured by you.

Oh! what a thriving Church and State
Have we enjoyed ever since you took your seat,
With a glorious King (God save him!):
p. 60Have you not made his Majesty,
If he would just agree,
And do as you want him to!

Your Directory on how to pray
By the spirit shows the perfect way;
In reality you have abolished
The Dagon of the Common Prayer,
And soon we see you will make sure
That churches are demolished.

A lot in every profession
Of annoying preachers you’ve created,
   Learned through revelation;
Cambridge and Oxford made terrible preachers,
Each shop provides better teachers—
   Oh blessed reformation!

Your divine wisdom has discovered
The true religion, without a doubt;
Because, among so many,
We have at least five hundred;
Isn't the gospel growing a lot?
Everyone must be pure, if any.

Could you have acted more righteously
Than selling church land to buy off the King,
   And silencing the city’s complaints?
Paying the Scots church warriors,
That the new gospel helped to establish;
   God knows they are struggling saints!

Because the Apostles' Creed is weak,
The Assembly offers a better framework,
Which saves us all effortlessly;
p. 61As long as
We have the grace
To believe in the House from the start,
Our actions can be whatever they want.

It’s strange that your power and holiness
Can’t the Irish devils kick out,
   His end is very tough:
But even though you pray so often,
And every month you keep fasting days,
   You still can’t cast them out.

By John Cleveland.
To the tune of “An Old Courtier of the Queen's.”

With a look and style to be recognized,
For someone guaranteed to win;
With eyes wide open, and many a sigh,
With neck angled just right to hit the note,
With a harp up his nose, or he’s not one:
   Check out the new teacher in town,
   Oh the town, oh the town’s new teacher!

With hair cropped shorter than the forehead,
With a little ruff starched, you know how,
With a cloak like Paul, but no cape, I guess,
With no surplice; but recently now
With hands to thump, no knees to bow:
      See a new teacher, etc.

p. 62With a fake cough and sunken cheeks,
To collect new things every week,
With a cheap switch of and to eke,
With a bit of Hebrew, but no Greek,
To figure out words when there’s stuff to find:
      Check out a new teacher, etc.

With storefront breeding and interference,
With some bizarre institution,
With Ursine’s teachings to think about,
With the system’s way to create confusion,
With a foundation built on just illusion:
      Meet a new teacher, etc.

With rituals deemed unworthy, all condemned,
And made illegal if ordered;
Good deeds of Catholicism dismissed,
And moral laws set apart from him,
Except for the Sabbath, which remains unchanged:
      See a new teacher, etc.

With unplanned speech, quick insight,
With confidence in fate,
With warnings of total damnation
Yet yes and no offer some salvation
For his own people, not all nations:
      See a new teacher, etc.

With a license now given, he wears a crown,
After the Bishop had pushed him down;
With tricks called repetition,
And new teachings brought to town
About teaching men to hang and drown:
      Look, a new teacher, etc.

p. 63To have enough food to observe Lent,
With shelves stocked with treats often consumed,
Which the new maid bought and the old lady sent,
Even though it was a modest offering,
Still, inheritances guarantee outcomes:
      Check out a new teacher, etc.

With soldiers waiting for him at the door,
Who would listen to sermons and nothing else;
With plenty of tools to take notes, and lots of sighs,
With big Bibles to flip through;
While he struggles to find positions by the dozen:
      See a new teacher, etc.

With ongoing text, the named outcasts,
With for and but, both meaning mixed,
Cheap beliefs pushed, wild practices adopted,
Both occasionally one by label confused;
With anything shaped any way:
      Check out a new teacher, etc.

With freshly made caps, against the rules,
To avoid getting cold, even if he's fine;
At the end of a sermon, where he started one,
A new hour long, once the time’s up,
New use, new points, new notes to rely on:
      Look at a new teacher, etc.

From Samuel Butler's Posthumous Works.

What creature's that, with his short hair,
His little group, and huge long ears,
   That this new faith has established?
The saints themselves were never like that,
The church leaders never had so much power;
   Oh! such a troublemaker’s a Roundhead.

Who’s the one that the bishops despise,
And sees their calling as worthless,
   Just because the Pope suggested it;
And believes a passionate cobbler is better
Than an educated Usher in every detail?
   Oh! that kind of guy is a Roundhead.

What's the guy who commits high treason say,
As often as his yes and no,
And wishes the King to fail;
And dares to argue that Mr. Pim
Is more suited for a crown than he?
Oh! such a rogue’s a Roundhead.

What’s he who, if he happens to hear
A little bit of Common Prayer,
   Thinks his conscience is hurt;
Will travel five miles to preach and pray,
And encounter a sister along the way?
   Oh! that kind of guy is a Roundhead.

What’s he who met a holy sister
And gently kissed her on a haystack?
   Oh! then his passion overflowed:
p. 65It was beneath a shady willow,
Her Bible acted as her pillow,
   And there he got a Roundhead.

From the King’s Pamphlets, British Museum.

There is an old proverb that everyone knows,
Anything can be said, as long as it’s kept secret:
So now let’s talk, while we have the chance,
About the state of the land and the issues in it.

Under the rose, it's said, there are a number of tricksters,
More than have ever been known in a State before;
But I hope their wrongdoing has led to their downfall,
And we won’t trust tricksters for their sake ever again.

Under the rose, it must be said, the city’s an idiot
It's been too long that the public let their money flow,
To keep the King away; but now it’s happened,
I know they will lose, no matter who has won.

Under the rose be it spoken, there’s a company of men,
Trainbands they are called—a plague confound ‘em:—
p. 66And when they are waiting at Westminster Hall,
May their wives be fooled and pregnant all!

Under the rose let it be said, there’s a damn’d committee
Sits in hell (Goldsmiths’ Hall), in the middle of the city,
Just to isolate the poor Cavaliers—
The devil take their souls, and the hangman their ears.

Under the rose, let it be said, if you don’t repent
Of that terrible sin, your noble Parliament,
Please wait until Sir Thomas brings in the King,
Then Derrick [32] might just have them all in a row.

Under the rose, let’s speak frankly, and let the council now
Stop twisting the whole Scriptures to trick souls;
For all they’ve said or taught will never save them,
Unless they abandon that mistake, hell’s sure to take them!

A song created during the Rebellion.

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

Put aside your begging,
   The law is in trouble;
Burn all your books, and
   Toss out your reading.

Small power the word has,
And can give us
Not nearly as much privilege as
The sword does.

It nurtures your masters,
It flatters disasters,
It elevates the servants fast
Above their masters.

It wanders, it arrives,
It searches and it focuses,
It sets an apprentice free despite
Their contracts.

It speaks of little things,
But it creates everything;
This controls money, even though money
Controls everything.

It’s not the time
   To discuss reason,
Nor call it loyalty when the sword
   Would see it as treason.

p. 68It takes the crown, too,
The serious and the fancy, too,
First it installs a leader, and
Then it brings him down, too.

This quiet disaster
Turns a bonnet into a beaver;
Down goes a bishop, folks, and up
Comes a weaver.

This turns an ordinary person
   Into someone who preaches and prays;
And makes a lord out of someone
   Who was just a cart driver.

Far from the gulpit
   Of Saxby’s pulpit,
This brought a Hebrew ironmonger
   To the pulpit.

Such sad things are
   Happier than kings are;
They outsmart Thimblebee
   And Slingsbee.

No gospel can lead it,
No law can determine it,
In Church or State, until the sword
Has blessed it.

Down go your legal tricks,
Far from the magic,
Holy Hewson's power has risen,
And brought down St. Patrick's.

p. 69This sword is well-regarded, too,
So much in Wales, too,
Shenkin ap Powel swears
“Cots-splutterer nails, too.”

In Scotland, this quicker
Caused such chaos,
That they returned their money
For which they betrayed their leader.

It battered their Gunkirk,
And so it did their Spainkirk,
That he has fled and swears the devil
Is in Dunkirk.

He who can rise high,
   Or he who is more grounded,
Would be seen as foolish to waste
   His abilities.

Take books and rent them,
Who can create them,
When the sword answers,
Negatur argumentum.

Your brave college butlers
Must lower themselves to the vendors;
There’s never a library
Like the cutlers’.

The blood that was spilled, sir,
Has gained all the glory, sir;
So you've seen me drive my
Sword all the way in, sir.

The coins minted during Cromwell's Protectorate featured a shield with St. George’s cross on the front, surrounded by a laurel and palm branch, along with the words “The Commonwealth of England.” On the back, there was the phrase “God with us,” along with two shields displaying the arms of England and Ireland.

Did you see the State's new money from the Mint?
Some people say it's incredibly nice;
And that you can read a great mystery in it,
About the mighty King Nol, the lord of the coin.

They have completely left out his political mind,
   His respected face, and his great nose;
But to better depict the life he lived,
   They have marked it with the imprint of his hose.

For if they had put up his picture there,
They really should have crowned him in Charles’s place;
But it was cleverly done that they didn't,
And instead chose to put up anything else but his head.

It's really strange, and yet it's true,
In this change, we should have such luck;
That crosses were always looked down on by you,
Who before took them down, should now put them up.

On this side, they’ve boxed in “God with us,”
And they trust in this stamp and coin;
p. 71Common-Wealth on the other, which suggests
That God and the States weren’t on the same side.

On this side, they have a cross and a harp,
And only a cross on the other side;
From this, we can see it’s our turn
To have two crosses for one moment of joy!

Being a new song, in which the people express their thanks and pray for the reformers.

To be mentioned or sung by all the loyal supporters of the kingdom of England and the principality of Wales, before this unfortunate Parliament is dissolved.

[From the King’s Pamphlets, British Museum. It is printed but incorrectly in the “Rump Songs,” ed. 1665, under the title of “The Rebellion.”]

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

Now that, thanks to the powers below!
We’ve finally settled our score,
The mitre is down, and so is the crown,
And with them the coronet too;
Come clowns, and come boys, come rowdy youths,
Come women of every kind;
p. 72Stretch your voices, bring in your votes,
And make this chaos worthwhile.
And “this is how it’ll go,” says Alice;
“No, this is how it’ll go,” says Amy;
“No, this is how it’ll go,” says Taffie, “I believe;”
“No, this is how it’ll go,” says Jamy.

Ah! but the truth, good people,
The truth is a serious matter;
For it would ruin both Church and State,
And jeopardize our King.
Yet neither the spirit nor the new light,
Can make this point clear,
But you must show us, you elevated crowd,
What this truth is and where to find it.
Speak Abraham, speak Kester, speak Judith, speak Hester,
Speak everyone, short coat or long;
Truth’s the reason we rebelled,
And caused murder and plunder, ding-dong.
“Sure, I have the truth,” says Numph;
“No, I have the truth,” says Clem;
“No, I have the truth,” says Reverend Ruth;
“No, I have the truth,” says Nem.

Well, let the truth be what it is,
We’re sure everything else is ours;
Yet these divisions in our religions
Might weaken our power.
So let’s agree on one way,
It doesn’t really matter how true;
Take Pryn and his clubs; or Say and his tubs, [33]
Or any old or new sect;
p. 73The devil’s in the mix, if you can choose,
We’re strong in our eighty religions;
Choose your option, the majority vote
Will carry it, right or wrong.
“Then we’ll go with this,” says Megg;
“No, we’ll go with that,” says Tibb;
“No, we’ll go with all,” says pitiful Paul;
“No, we’ll go with none,” says Gibb.

Neighbors and friends, just one more word,
There's still something behind;
And smart as you are, you don't quite see
Where the problem lies.
Regarding religion, to speak honestly,
And in the House's sense,
It doesn't really matter to have one or none,
If it weren't for the show.
But within this lies the key to the matter,
Even to manage the crown,
Skillfully, and as it should be,
For your benefit and your own.
“Then let’s have King Charles,” says George;
“No, let’s have his son,” says Hugh;
“No, let’s have none,” says Jabbering Jone;
“No, let’s all be kings,” says Prue.

Oh, we’re going to have (if we keep going on
with plundering, taxes, and violence)
But there will be only a few people and those poor to control,
and that’s not going to be good;
So let’s figure out a new way,
some fresh and happy path,
p. 74The country's grown sad, the city is crazy,
and both Houses are even worse.
The synod has written, the general has spat,
and both for similar reasons too;
Religion, laws, the truth, the cause,
are all talked about, but we’re not doing anything.
“Come on, shall we have peace?” says Nell;
“No, no, but we won’t,” says Madge;
“But I say we will,” says fiery-faced Phil;
“We will and we won’t,” says Hodge.

Thus, from the chaos, who can expect
   Anything but division?
Since unity starts and ends with monarchy
   In one.
If then, when everyone thinks it’s their own,
   And lies at their command,
These public figures gain nothing but arguments,
   From that many round-headed creature;
Come on, Royalists, then, do you act like men,
   And Cavaliers give the signal;
Now let’s see what you really want,
   And whether you can agree.
“A toast to King Charles!” says Tom;
   “Cheers to that,” says Ralph, like a man;
“God bless him,” says Doll; “and lift him up,” says Moll;
   “And give him back what’s his!” says Nan.

Now for these sensible things that sit
Forever and for no one,
And their committees, which towns and cities
Fill with chaos;
p. 75For the bold groups of sectarians,
The Scots and their followers,
Our new British states, Col. Burges and his friends,
The covenant and its creators;
For all these we’ll pray, and in such a way,
As if it could be granted,
Jack and Jill, Matt and Will,
And everyone would agree.
“A plague on them all!” says Besse;
“And a pestilence too!” says Margery,
“The devil!” says Dick; “And his mother, [34] too!” says Nick;
“Amen! and Amen!” say I.

It is hoped that the knights and representatives will make a special effort to send full numbers of this to their respective counties and boroughs, where they have served their time, so that everyone can rejoice together in their freedom.

From a broadside in the King’s Pamphlets, vol. viii, in the British Museum, with the direction, “You can sing this to the tune of ‘Faine I would.’” The tune, sometimes called “Parthenia” and “The King’s Complaint,” can be found in Mr. Chappell’s Popular Music of the Olden Time. The King was beheaded in January 1649. This ballad is dated April 23 of the same year.

CROMWELL ON THE THRONE.

So, so, the deed is done,
The royal head is severed,
As I intended from the start,
And have worked hard for.
Now Charles the First has fallen,
The Second doesn’t scare me;
I take the scepter, wear the crown,
And don’t care for Jehovah.

KING CHARLES IN HIS COFFIN.

Do you really think, you lowly servant, that even when I’m in my grave
like any other man,
my shining reputation and royal name
can die (as you want)?
Know this, coward: I live on in my son
(some call him the Black Prince),
and he will take plenty of revenge
on those who caused my fate.

p. 77The crowd in the pit.

Suppressed, depressed, caught up in troubles,
Great Charles, your people are
Poorly deceived by false appearances
By those who killed you.
We are enslaved to tyrants’ commands,
Who have taken our freedom:
Our dwindling hope now rests
On your successor's reign.

CROMWELL IN POWER.

Base and vulgar! Know this: the more you stir things up,
The more your troubles grow,
Your recklessness will crush your hopes,
It’s us who must bring you peace.
Black Charles is declared a traitor
To our dignity;
He dies (if ever we get him)
Without any way out.

KING CHARLES IN HIS COFFIN.

Thrice-perjured villain! Didn't you
And your worthless crew,
By mankind's Savior's body swear
To me, your sovereign,
To make me the most glorious king
That ever reigned over England;
That you and yours would support
Me in everything?

p. 78THE PEOPLE IN THE PIT.

Sweet prince! Oh, let us ask for forgiveness
From your beloved spirit;
It’s us who brought you to the grave,
You were betrayed by us.
We thought it was change
That these monsters wanted;
Not realizing that your downfall
And death would be our price.

CROMWELL IN POWER.

You foolish people! Your intelligence is
In your tiny brains; could you
Imagine that our plot
Was only meant
To spill our blood
Just to make scoundrels run away?
No, we were after your lives and possessions,
And for a kingdom.

KING CHARLES IN HIS CASKET.

But there's a Thunderer up above,
Who, even though he turns a blind eye for a bit,
Is not fond of your wicked actions,
He despises your cursed deceit.
And even if you sit for a while
At the top of Fortune's wheel,
You'll soon stumble down to Acharon
(Overwhelmed by your sins).

p. 79THE PEOPLE IN THE PIT.

Meanwhile (you glory of the earth)
We are slowly dying:
Taxation brings free-loaders’ birth,
While soldiers increase.
We forfeit our lives every day,
Our money strangles us;
The laws are completely gone,
Or reduced to traitor’s votes.

CROMWELL ON THE THRONE.

Like patient mules determined to carry
Whatever we choose to impose;
You don’t have to worry about your lives and property,
We’ll show you we’re friends, not enemies.
We (the elected ones) have to lead
This land for a thousand years;
You must support our pride,
And serve our commands.

KING CHARLES IN HIS COFFIN.

But you might not achieve your great hopes,
If luck isn’t on your side;
And end up giving your hated lives away
To revenge and to me.
When the Swedes and Irish unite,
The Cumbrians and Scots
Join together with the Danes and French,
Then pay attention to your fate.

p. 80THE PEOPLE IN THE PIT.