 | Poems on Affairs of State |  |
Song.
[The Pillars of Popery now are blown down]
1
The Pillars of Popery now are blown down,One thousand six hundred eighty and eight,
Which has frighten'd our Monarch away from his Crown,
One thousand six hundred eighty and eight.
284
One thousand six hundred eighty and eight:
For Myn Heer did appear, and they scamper'd for fear,
One thousand six hundred eighty and eight.
2
That Mirror of Mothers, and Wonder of Wives,One thousand, &c.
With her Joy of three Titles are fled for their Lives.
One thousand, &c.
3
George Jefferies, who boasted his Face was of Brass,One thousand, &c.
Is now metamorphos'd into a Welch Ass.
One thousand, &c.
4
That Curse of three Kingdoms, damn'd Petre, is fled,One thousand, &c.
Who with Rome's Ignis fatuus our Monarch misled.
One thousand, &c.
5
Great Dada, whose Presence made pregnant the Queen,One thousand, &c.
Now she has withdrawn, is no more to be seen.
One thousand, &c.
6
Old Mordant's good Service shall doubly be paid,One thousand, &c.
For his fetching the Queen now his Lordship is staid,
One thousand, &c.
7
That Sink of Sedition, the vile Observator,One thousand, &c.
Shall receive the just Merit that's due to a Traitor.
One thousand, &c.
8
Our Renegade Rhymer, tho cudgel'd and lick'd,One thousand, &c.
285
One thousand, &c.
9
Now old Obadiah quits Ave-Maria,One thousand, &c.
To sing Lamentations worse than Jeremiah.
One thousand, &c.
10
That Wittal and worse, who commanded the Tow'r,One thousand, &c.
With that shrimp of a Soldier sweet Cecil did scour.
One thousand, &c.
11
All our Priests are gone back with our Jesuits and Monks,One thousand, &c.
And our Nuns to their former Profession of Punks.
One thousand, &c.
12
'Twould tire your Patience to number the rest,One thousand, &c.
You may guess by the Paw at the Bulk of the Beast.
One thousand, &c.
| Poems on Affairs of State | |