 | The secret history of the Calves-Head Club |  |
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.
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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.
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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.
| The secret history of the Calves-Head Club | |