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The Statesman's Almanack.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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The Statesman's Almanack.

Being an excellent new Ballad, in which the Qualities of each Month are consider'd; whereby it appears that a Parliament cannot meet in any of the old Months: With a Proposal for mending the Calendar, humbly offer'd to the Packers of the next Parliament.

[_]

To the Tune of, Cold and Raw the Wind did blow.

1

The Talk up and down
In Country and Town
Has been long of a Parliament's sitting;

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But we'll make it clear,
Ne'er a Month in the Year
Is proper for such a Meeting.

2

The Judges declare it,
The Ministers swear it,
But the Town as a Tale receives it;
Let them say what they can,
There is ne'er a Man,
Except God's Vicegerent believes it.

3

If the Criticks in spite,
Our Arguments slight,
And think them too light for the Matter;
It has been often known,
That Men on a Throne
Have arraign'd the whole Realm with no better.

4

For in times of old,
When Kings were less bold,
And made for their Faults some Excuses;
Such Topicks as these,
The Commons to please,
Did serve for most excellent Uses.

5

Either Christmas comes on,
Or Harvest's begun,
And all must repair to their Station;
'Twas too dry or too wet
For the Houses to set,
And Hey for a Prorogation.

6

Then, Sir, if you please,
With such Reasons as these,
Let's see how each Moon's appointed:
For sure it most strange is,
That in all her Changes,
She favours not God's Anointed.

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January.

The first is too cold
For Popery to hold,
Since Southern Climes do improve it:
And therefore in Frost
'Tis odds but it's lost,
If they offer for to remove it.

February.

The next does betide,
Tho then the King died,
Ill-luck, and they must not be tamp'ring:
For hadn't Providence quick
Cool'd his Head in the nick,
'Fore Gad they were all a scamp'ring.

March.

The Month of old Rome
Has an Omen with some;
But the sleeping Wind then knows,
And trusts not the Croud
When Storms are so loud,
Lest th'Air infects the House.

April.

In this by mishap
Southesk had a Clap,
Which pepper'd our Gracious Master:
And therefore in Spring
He must physick his Thing,
And venture no new Disaster.

May.

This Month is too good,
And too lusty his Blood
To be for business at leisure:
With his Confessor's leave
Honest Bridget may give
The Fumbler Royal his Pleasure.

June.

The Brains of the State
Have been hot of late,
They have manag'd all business in Rapture:

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And to call Us in June
Is to the same Tune,
To be mad to the end of the Chapter.

July.

This Season was made
For the Camp and Parade,
When with the Expence of his Treasure,
With much Sweat and Pains
Discreetly he trains
Such Men as will break all his Measures.

August.

This Month did advance
Their Projects in France,
As Bartholomew remembers;
But alas they want Force
To take the same Course
With our Heretical Members.

September.

They cannot now meet,
For the Progress was set,
And they find it a scurvy Fashion,
To ride, and to ride,
To be snub'd and deny'd
By ev'ry good Man in the Nation.

October.

Now Hunting comes in,
That Licence to sin,
That does with a Cloak befriend him:
But if the Queen knows
How at Graham's he blows,
His Divine Right cannot defend him.

November.

November might do,
For ought that we know,
But that the King promis'd by Chancellor:
And his Word before
Was pawn'd for much more
Than e'er 'twill be able to answer.

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December.

The last of the Year
Resemblance does bear
To their Hopes and their Fortune declining:
Ne'er hope for Success,
Day grows less and less,
And the Sun once so high has done shining.

EPILOGUE.

Ye Gypsies of Rome
That run up and down,
And with Miracles the People cozen;
By the help of some Saint
Get the Month which you want,
And make up a Baker's Dozen.
You see the old Year
Won't help you, 'tis clear:
And therefore to save your Honour,
Get a new Sun and Moon,
And the Work may be done,
And 'fore George it will never be sooner.