 |
 | The secret history of the Calves-Head Club |  |
1
To the Grave and Worshipful JOHN TUTCHIN, Esq; OBSERVATOR, AND Censor Morum General;
Supervisor of the Admiralty, Victualling-Office, Play-house, Bartholomew-Fair,
Bear-garden, Defender of Parliaments, and Protestant March Beer, &c.
27
A Song on the 30th of January, 1690.
I
Now let's sing, carouse, and roar,The happy Day is come once more;
For to Revel,
Is but civil,
As our Fathers did before;
Who, when the Tyrant would enslave us,
Chopp'd his Calves-Head off to save us.
II
Let each Youth his Love forsake,And a merry Bumper take;
Let no Round-Head
Here be grounded,
And drink dry the French-Man's Lake:
28
'Till old Puss awake and bless us.
III
Let the Prelates now go on,And rail afresh at Forty One,
The deposing
They're 'spousing,
We the Father, they the Son.
Through the Treason, they did find us,
They, my Friends, are not behind us.
IV
Then let's Laugh and Revel here,And of our Calves-Head make good Chear;
This we Dish up,
And no Bishop
Dines without one all the Year:
Thus we prosper without fighting,
In Practice and in Food uniting.
30
Anniversary Anthem, 1693.
I
Once more, my Muse, resume thy chearful Lire,Let this Day's Acts eternal Thoughts inspire;
Let every smiling Glass with Mirth be crown'd,
While Healths to England's native Rights go round.
One such another Day as this alone,
Would fully for a Nation's Sin atone.
'Tis a sure Symtom, that the People's bless'd,
When once a haughty Tyrant's dispossess'd.
Chor.
Apollo's pleas'd, and all the tuneful NineRejoice, and in the solemn Chorus join.
II
Again, my Muse, immortal Brutus sing,Whose daring Sword expell'd a Tyrant King:
31
To give Rome Freedom, and eternal Fame.
Such Force has Liberty, such conqu'ring Charms,
That the whole World submitted to their Arms.
What Wreaths shall we prepare, and how rehearse
His lasting Worth in everlasting Verse?
Chor.
Apollo's pleas'd, &c.III
Triumphant Laurels too must Crown that Head,Whose righteous Hand struck England's Tyrant dead:
The Heroes too, adorn'd with Blood and Sweat,
Who forc'd th'opposing Monster to retreat.
Heaven still before a leading Angel sent;
They conquer'd, 'cause they on his Errand went.
Like the Israelites of old, their Chains they broke,
Guided by Pillars both of Fire and Smoke.
Chor.
Apollo's pleas'd, &c.IV
'Tis Force must pull a lawless Tyrant down;32
When once the lurking Poyson is descry'd,
His juggling Tricks are all in vain apply'd.
In vain he Whines, in vain he Cants and Prays,
There's not a Man believes one Word he says:
'Tis true, Religion is the grand Pretence;
But Power and Wealth's the Mythologick Sense.
Chor.
Apollo's pleasd, &c.V
Then fill the longing Glass with spritely Wine,Our Cause is Justice, and the Health's Divine.
The Heroes smile, and our Delights approve,
Which adds new Joys to those they find above:
'Twas so they Honour, so they Conquest sought;
Thus fairly Drank, and then as fairly Fought.
They love to see us thus our Homage pay,
And bless the just Occasion of the Day.
Chor.
Apollo's pleas'd, &c.35
Anniversary Anthem, 1694.
I
The Storm is blow over, the Tempest is past,The Tyrant is fallen, and is conquer'd at last.
Our Fathers resolv'd it, and bravely 'twas done,
To save the whole Kingdom by lopping the Crown.
By her Looks, we discover'd the Nation was pleas'd,
Her Fears were all vanish'd, her Troubles were eas'd.
Whilst we Yearly commend an Attempt so Divine,
And applaud the just Action with Calves-Head and Wine.
Chorus.
II
Thus Rome, when she suffer'd by seven lewd Kings,That shackled her Freedom, and pinion'd her Wings,
Long Time she sat mournful, as England had done,
And bow'd to the Weight of a Tyrannous Throne;
36
And Liberty round the glad Eccho reply'd;
Whilst Brutus resolv'd to give Tarquin his Doom,
And offer a King to the Welfare of Rome.
Chorus.
III
When by Tyrants Endeavours the People are prest,Let this noble Example inspire ev'ry Breast
With the same Resolutions to defend the Good Cause,
The Subjects just Rights, their Religion and Laws.
Then fill the Calves Cranium to a Health so Divine,
The Cause, the old Cause shall ennoble our Wine;
Charge briskly around, fill it up, fill it full,
'Tis the last and best Service of a Tyrannick Scull.
IV
Then, Boys, let's drink a Bumber, since their Actions made us great,Let us lay our Trophies at their Feet:
37
That alone could free a captiv'd State.
V
Then to Puss, Boys, to Puss, Boys,Let's drink it off thus Boys,
As our Fathers did, and the World shall us adore;
It's happier to die, Boys,
Than in Slavery to lie Boys;
Thus the Heroes chose it, and bravely dy'd before.
41
Anniversary Anthem, 1695, 1698, and 1699.
I
What the Devil means all this PotherOn this Day, more than another?
See! the Sot to Church reels out,
See! the Leacher leaves his Whore;
The Rogues, that never pray'd before,
Are grown most plaguily Devout.
II
Prethee, Parson, why those Faces,Pious Frowns, and damn'd Grimaces?
Why so many Creeds and Masses,
Collects, Lessons, and the rest
Of the Holy Garbidge drest,
Proper Food for mumbling Asses?
42
III
Oh! Sir, it's a Debt, they say,Mother Church must yearly pay
To her Saints Canonization:
It was the Day in which he fell
A Martyr to the Cause of Hell,
Justly crown'd with Decollation.
IV
Mirth for us and generous Wine;Let the Clergy cant and whine,
Preach and prate about Rebellion;
No more Beasts of K---s, good Heaven!
Such as late in Wrath were given,
Two curss'd Tyrants, and a Stallion.
V
Now prepare, my Lads, and standEach his Bumper in his Hand
Brutus! 'tis a Health to thee,
Thou whose generous Arm and Sword,
43
Rome's expiring Liberty.
VI
Fill the Glass with sparkling Red,Look, 'twas the Tyrant bled.
Thus our Fathers let us see
What before had Sacred stood,
Fawn'd and worshipp'd as a God,
Was Flesh and Blood, as well as we.
48
An Anthem on the 30th of January, 1696.
There was a King of Scottish Race,A Man of muckle Might a,
Was never seen in Battels great,
But greatly he would Sh---a;
This King begot another King,
Which made the Nation sad a,
Was of the same Religion,
An Atheist, like his Dad a:
This Monarch wore a picked Beard,
And seem'd a doughty Heroe,
As Dioclesian Innocent, and as Merciful as Nero.
The Church's darling Implement,
But Scourge of all the People;
49
Adore their Idol Steeple:
But they perceiving his Designs,
Grew plaguy shy and jealous,
And timely chopt his Calves-Head off,
And sent him to his Fellows.
Old Rowly did succeed his Dad,
Such a King was never seen a,
He'd lie with ev'ry nasty Drab,
But seldom with his Queen a.
Restless and hot he roll'd about
The Town, from Whore to Whore a,
A merry Monarch as e'er liv'd,
Yet scandalous and poor a.
His Dogs at Council-Board, would sit
Like Judges in their Furs a;
'Twas hard to say which had most Wit,
The Monarch, or his Curs a.
50
But most think by his Brother;
His Soul to Royal Tophes went,
To see his Dad and Mother.
The furious James usurp'd the Throne,
To pull Religion down a;
But by his Wife and Priest undone,
He quickly lost his Crown a.
To France the wand'ring Monarch's trudg'd,
In hopes Relief to find a,
Which he is like to have from thence,
Ev'n when the D---'s blind a.
Oh! how should we rejoyce and pray,
And never cease to sing a,
If Bishops too were chas'd away,
And banish'd with their King a:
51
Our Bellies would be full a,
The enliven'd Isle would laugh and smile,
As in the Days of Noll a.
55
An Anthem on January the 30th, 1697.
I
Touch, now touch the tuneful Lyre,Make the joyful Strings resound;
The Victory's at last intire,
With the Royal Victim crown'd.
II
The happy Stroke did soon recoverWhat we long had sought in vain,
Thus Ariadne lost her Lover,
But the Gods reliev'd her Pain.
III
This was an Action just and daring,Nature smil'd at what they did,
56
Made the haughty Tyrant bleed.
IV
They their Sons thus well obliging,Taught us how this Day to keep,
Who by fighting, storming, sieging,
Laid the ravening Wolf asleep.
V
England long her Wrongs sustaining,Press'd beneath her Burthens down,
Chose a Set of Heroes daring,
To chastise the haughty Crown.
VI
Thus the Romans, whose beginningFrom an equal Right did spring,
Abhorring Romulus his Sinning,
To the Gods transferr'd their King.
57
VII
Let the Black Guard rail no further,Nor blaspheme the righteous Blow;
Nor miscal that Justice, Murther,
Which made Saint, and Martyr too.
VIII
They and We this Day observing,Differ only in one thing;
They are canting, whining, starving,
We rejoycing, drink, and sing.
IX
Advance the Emblem of the Action,Fill the Calve's Scull full of Wine;
Drinking ne'er was counted Faction,
Men and Gods adore the Vine.
X
To the Heroes gone before us,Let's renew the flowing Bowl,
58
Shine like Stars from Pole to Pole.
65
A Song on the 30th of January, 1697.
By a Lad of 16.
I
Tune the Lute and Lyre,Touch the sounding Wyre;
Let our Hearts and Voice
Create such a Noise,
As shall match the Cœlestial Choir.
II
Hark! th'exalted Heroes,Looking on, looking on,
Charm the bright Seraphick Throne,
With Hymns Divine, to cheer us.
66
III
The pensive World around us,Griev'd to see him wound us,
But bless'd the Deed,
When they saw him bleed,
Who labour'd to confound us.
IV
The happy British Isle too,When she saw, when she saw,
The destin'd Head submit to Law,
Began to sing and smile too.
V
It was a pleasing Wonder,Upon the Earth and under;
The Worms beneath
Rejoyc'd at his Death,
And gladly siez'd the Plunder.
67
VI
Nought mourns under Heaven,But the Priest, but the Priest,
Whose Hypocrsy's a Jest,
Can never be forgiven.
VII
Hail! Saints Victorious,Who bravely went before us,
Who taught us the way,
When Tyrants sway,
To make a Nation Glorious.
VIII
Thus you give us Freedom,And Liberty, Liberty,
Shall by your Methods purchas'd be,
Whene'er the People need 'em.
IX
The Heroes now in Glory,Bow themselves before ye,
68
Posterity,
Thus yearly rehearse their Story.
X
Then fill the Cranium full, Boys,With sparkling Red, with sparkling Red,
We'll knock the sneaking Puppies dead,
Who dare our Mirth controul, Boys.
71
An Anthem on the 30th of January.
I
Welcome, brave Souls,Now drink off your Bowls,
'Twas an Act we all do admire
To stifle the Work
Of an English Turk,
Whose Sun set our City on Fire
II
Whose Deeds were forgot'Till reviv'd by a Plot,
Carry'd on by shitten Mack-Ninney:
But the Martyr in Rage,
Lost his Head on a Stage,
And the Church swore the Devil was in ye.
72
III
Then let us commendThe Deeds of a Friend,
That caused our jolly Meeting;
To our Fathers we owe
The Honour o'th' Blow,
And we are their Sons, that are Feasting.
IV
But who would have thought,That our Scotch Laird
Should make use of the Power of France, Sir?
But their Work is done,
From Father to Son,
We have lost both Root an Branch, Sir.
V
Then again let's commend,That Warlike Hand,
73
'Twas Puss in her Furr,
Did scratch, spit, and purr,
And pointed to Abdication.
76
A Song at the Calves-Head Club, January the 30th. 1698.
I
Crown, Crown the Goblet, Quaff the sparkling Wine,Invoke the Assistance of the Tuneful Nine:
The great Concernment of this Glorious Day,
Should all our Wit, and all our Joy display;
No gloomy Look, no pensive Thought be found,
Where Liberty with sprightly Joys go round.
Let black Dispair convert into a Smile,
And Peals of Triumph eccho thro' the Isle.
II
Let Tyrants faint and tremble, when they're toldWhat Deeds the Annals of this Day unfold.
77
Fought, and the bold Oppressor put to Flight.
When purple Streams distain'd the native Green,
Ye Gods! what Courage, and what Heat was seen!
When Heaven-inspir'd Heroes dare to own
The Noble Cause, and pull the Monster down.
III
Fill round again, the Justice of their ArmsHas endless Praises, and immortal Charms.
Time cannot lessen, and no Age express
The bold Atchievements of that Godlike Race,
Born to chastise and scourge Tyrannick Might,
Durst bravely plead the Cause of injur'd Right;
And to Posterity an Instance gave,
That a brave Man can never be a Slave.
IV
Contemn the lazy Lubbards of the Church,Who mourning one, left t'other in the Lurch;
78
Yet basely left the Son, to run away:
In vain they preach, in vain they cant and whine,
Heaven scorns their Prayers, and hates the gross Design.
Their Martyr'd Monarch's grown a senseless Jest,
That Fools admire, and all good Men detest.
V
Charge, charge again, let Wine profusely flow,They smile above, to see our Mirth below;
Their inlarg'd Souls are vastly pleas'd to hear
Their Deeds recounted each returning Year.
In flowing Bowls we our Oblations make;
'Tis all that we can give, or they can take,
While thus in Friendship we our Homage pay,
And celebrate the Glories of the Day.
82
An Anniversary Poem on the 30th of January, 1699.
Hail, sacred Day! that each returning Year,Do'st with new Light our drooping Spirits chear;
Remind'st us of our Ancestors Renown,
Who bravely pull'd a sawcy Tyrant down,
While Liberty Triumphant fill'd the Throne.
The Tydings first at the curss'd Court began,
Which chearfully thro' all the Nation ran:
Fresh Streams of unknown Joys around did flow,
And all good Men ador'd the righteous Blow.
The Sun transported with the Noble Deed,
Shone out, and smil'd to see the Monster bleed.
Th'amaz'd World united in Applause,
And bless'd the Justice of our Arms and Cause.
83
Whose damn'd Dissimulation is a Jest,
That every free-born Nation should detest.
Thrice Hail, illustrious Day! in thee's display'd
A brighter Scene, than when the World was made;
When from dark Chaos this gay Form was rear'd,
And all the grizly Phantoms disappear'd:
Just so they slunk away, just so they fled,
And groan'd and tumbl'd with the Tyrant's Head;
While general Gladness did the Isle employ,
And every English Tongue did shout for Joy:
Hail once again, thou glorious Part of Time!
Thou endless Subject of eternal Rhime!
May I forget to make my Numbers meet,
And Tune new Thoughts in well-composed Feet.
May she I love, forget to love me more,
Be always wretched, I be always poor,
If I forget this sacred Day t'adore.
84
And Providence weigh'd down the juster Scale:
When Right Triumphant o'er Injustice rode,
Following the Foot-steps of the leading God,
Did to the doubting World a Pattern shew,
What English Men, for English Rights, dare do.
87
On the 30th of January, 1699.
Go, cursed Crew, to all Extreams inclin'd,Rough as the Seas, and wav'ring as the Wind,
Too deeply cruel, or too basely kind:
You, like the Roman Senate heretofore,
Dead Drunk with Superstition, and with Goar,
First Masacre your Monarch, then adore.
A Remark on the former.
When fiery Whigs the Touchwood Land enflame,They labour on the Church to cast the Blame;
Thus love the Treason, but abhor the Shame.
88
The Health.
When Tories and Parsons do Cant and Pray,And spit their dull Malice on us,
Let's remember the Cause that occasion'd the Day,
And Drink a good Health to Old Puss, Old Puss.
When Priests of Rebellion and Treason prate,
And extol the lewd Monarch emur'd in the Cake,
Confront 'em with Vagabond James's Fate,
And put 'em in Mind of the Stroak they struck;
When Oppression increases, and Hopes grow less,
When Tyrants unbridl'd, their Subjects vex,
Let's chear up our selves with the happy Success,
That once did attend on the Ax, the Ax.
89
As soon as the Glorious Deed was done
Our Fathers perform'd, and why should we fear
To follow what they have so well begun?
Moses of old, when the Jews dispair'd,
How they should threat'ning Dangers shun,
Buoy'd up their Faith with the Wonders they've heard,
Had by their Fathers been done, been done;
But we have better Examples in store,
When Power with Liberty won't accord,
We'll follow the Pattern they set us before,
And deliver our selves from the Sword, the Sword,
Then fill up the Glass to the daring Hand,
Which bravely finish'd the just Design,
And stain'd with Tyrannical Blood the Sand,
While murmuring Scots repine, repine.
90
That gave us Occasion to Revel thus;
Confusion to those, who shall dare refuse
To Drink a good Health to Old Puss, Old Puss.
| The secret history of the Calves-Head Club | |