University of Virginia Library


8

THE SONG.

[_]

To the Tune of, Turn again Whittington.

Down fall those Beetle-brains, who have expounded
False Doctrine in their Tubs, and truth confounded,
The glorious Peace we had by them lies wounded,
No men in thoughts so bad ever abounded:
That I could wish they were all hang'd or drownded,
We might say ther's an end of a Right Round-head.
FINIS.