Part 3

Whate’er the Popish hands have built Our hammers shall undo; We’ll break their pipes and burn their copes, And pull down churches too; We’ll exercise within the groves, And teach beneath a tree; We’ll make a pulpit of a cask, And hey, then, up go we.

We’ll put down Universities, Where learning is profest, Because they practise and maintain The language of the Beast; We’ll drive the doctors out of doors, And all that learned be; We’ll cry all arts and learning down, And hey, then, up go we.

We’ll down with deans and prebends, too, And I rejoyce to tell ye We then shall get our fill of pig, And capons for the belly. We’ll burn the Fathers’ weighty tomes, And make the School-men flee; We’ll down with all that smells of wit, And hey, then, up go we.

If once the Antichristian crew Be crush’d and overthrown, We’ll teach the nobles how to stoop, And keep the gentry down: Good manners have an ill report, And turn to pride, we see, We’ll therefore put good manners down, And hey, then, up go we.

The name of lords shall be abhorr’d, For every man’s a brother; No reason why in Church and State One man should rule another; But when the change of government Shall set our fingers free, We’ll make these wanton sisters stoop, And hey, then, up go we.

What though the King and Parliament Do not accord together, We have more cause to be content, This is our sunshine weather: For if that reason should take place, And they should once agree, Who would be in a Roundhead’s case, For hey, then, up go we.

What should we do, then, in this case? Let’s put it to a venture; If that we hold out seven years’ space We’ll sue out our indenture. A time may come to make us rue, And time may set us free, Except the gallows claim his due, And hey, then, up go we.

THE CLEAN CONTRARY WAY, OR, COLONEL VENNE’S ENCOURAGEMENT TO HIS SOLDIERS.

To the air of “Hey, then, up go we.” From a Collection of Loyal Songs written against the Rump Parliament.

FIGHT on, brave soldiers, for the cause, Fear not the Cavaliers; Their threat’nings are as senseless as Our jealousies and fears. Tis you must perfect this great work, And all malignants slay; You must bring back the King again The clean contrary way.

’Tis for religion that you fight, And for the kingdom’s good; By robbing churches, plundering them, And shedding guiltless blood. Down with the orthodoxal train, All loyal subjects slay; When these are gone, we shall be blest The clean contrary way.

When _Charles_ we have made bankrupt, Of power and crown bereft him, And all his loyal subjects slain, And none but rebels left him; When we have beggar’d all the land, And sent our trunks away, We’ll make him then a glorious prince The clean contrary way.

’Tis to preserve his Majesty That we against him fight, Nor ever are we beaten back, Because our cause is right: If any make a scruple at Our Declarations, say,— Who fight for us, fight for the King The clean contrary way.

At _Keinton_, _Brainsford_, _Plymouth_, _York_, And divers places more, What victories we saints obtain, The like ne’er seen before: How often we Prince _Rupert_ kill’d, And bravely won the day, The wicked Cavaliers did run The clean contrary way.

The true religion we maintain, The kingdom’s peace and plenty; The privilege of Parliament Not known to one and twenty; The ancient fundamental laws, And teach men to obey Their lawful sovereign, and all these The clean contrary way.

We subjects’ liberties preserve By imprisonment and plunder, And do enrich ourselves and state By keeping th’ wicked under. We must preserve mechanicks now To lectorize and pray; By them the gospel is advanced The clean contrary way.

And though the King be much misled By that malignant crew, He’ll find us honest at the last, Give all of us our due. For we do wisely plot, and plot Rebellion to alloy, He sees we stand for peace and truth The clean contrary way.

The publick faith shall save our souls And our good works together; And ships shall save our lives, that stay Only for wind and weather: But when our faith and works fall down And all our hopes decay, Our acts will bear us up to heaven The clean contrary way.

THE CAMERONIAN CAT.

A well-known song from Hogg’s Jacobite Relics; and popular among the Cavaliers both of England and Scotland in the days of the Commonwealth. It was usually sung to a psalm tune; the singers imitating the style and manner of a precentor at a Presbyterian church.

THERE was a Cameronian cat Was hunting for a prey, And in the house she catch’d a mouse Upon the Sabbath-day.

The Whig, being offended At such an act profane, Laid by his book, the cat he took, And bound her in a chain.

Thou damn’d, thou cursed creature, This deed so dark with thee, Think’st thou to bring to hell below My holy wife and me?

Assure thyself that for the deed Thou blood for blood shalt pay, For killing of the Lord’s own mouse Upon the Sabbath-day.

The presbyter laid by the book, And earnestly he pray’d That the great sin the cat had done Might not on him be laid.

And straight to execution Poor pussy she was drawn, And high hang’d up upon a tree— The preacher sung a psalm.

And when the work was ended, They thought the cat near dead, She gave a paw, and then a mew, And stretched out her head.

Thy name, said he, shall certainly A beacon still remain, A terror unto evil ones For evermore, Amen.

THE ROYAL FEAST.

A Loyall Song of the Royall Feast kept by the Prisoners in the Towre, August last, with the Names, Titles, and Characters of every Prisoner. By Sir F. W., Knight and Baronet, Prisoner. (Sept. 16th, 1647.)

“In the negotiations between the King and the Parliament during the summer and autumn of this year,” says Mr Thomas Wright in his Political Ballads of the Commonwealth, published for the Percy Society, “the case of the royalist prisoners in the Tower was frequently brought into question. The latter seized the occasion of complaining against the rigours (complaints apparently exaggerated) which were exerted against them, and on the 16th June, 1647, was published ‘A True Relation of the cruell and unparallel’d Oppression which hath been illegally imposed upon the Gentlemen Prisoners in the Tower of London.’ The several petitions contained in this tract have the signatures of Francis Howard, Henry Bedingfield, Walter Blount, Giles Strangwaies, Francis Butler, Henry Vaughan, Thomas Lunsford, Richard Gibson, Tho. Violet, John Morley, Francis Wortley, Edw. Bishop, John Hewet, Wingfield Bodenham, Henry Warren, W. Morton, John Slaughter, Gilbert Swinhow.”

On the 19th of August (according to the MODERATE INTELLIGENCER of that date) the King sent to the royal prisoners in the Tower two fat bucks for a feast. This circumstance was the origin of the present ballad. It was written by Sir Francis Wortley, one of the prisoners. This ballad, as we learn by the concluding lines, was to be sung to the popular tune of “Chevy Chace.”

GOD save the best of kings, King Charles! The best of queens, Queen Mary! The ladies all, Gloster and Yorke, Prince Charles, so like old harry! {5}

God send the King his own again, His towre and all his coyners! And blesse all kings who are to reigne, From traytors and purloyners! The King sent us poor traytors here (But you may guesse the reason) Two brace of bucks to mend the cheere, Is’t not to eat them treason?

Let Selden search Cotton’s records, And Rowley in the Towre, They cannot match the president, It is not in their power. Old Collet would have joy’d to ’ve seen This president recorded; For all the papers he ere saw Scarce such an one afforded. The King sent us, etc.

But that you may these traytors know, I’ll be so bold to name them; That if they ever traytors prove Then this record may shame them: But these are well-try’d loyal blades (If England ere had any), Search both the Houses through and through You’ld scarcely finde so many. The King sent us, etc.

The first and chiefe a marquesse {6} is, Long with the State did wrestle; Had Ogle {7} done as much as he, Th’ad spoyl’d Will Waller’s castle. Ogle had wealth and title got, So layd down his commissions; The noble marquesse would not yield, But scorn’d all base conditions. The King sent us, etc.

The next a worthy bishop {8} is, Of schismaticks was hated; But I the cause could never know, Nor see the reason stated. The cryes were loud, God knowes the cause, They had a strange committee, Which was a-foot well neere a yeare, Who would have had small pitty. The King sent us, etc.

The next to him is a Welsh Judge, {9} Durst tell them what was treason; Old honest David durst be good When it was out of season; He durst discover all the tricks The lawyers use, and knavery, And show the subtile plots they use To enthrall us into slavery. The King sent us, etc.

Frank Wortley {10} hath a jovial soule, Yet never was good club-man; He’s for the bishops and the church, But can endure no tub-man. He told Sir Thomas in the Towre, Though he by him was undone, It pleased him that he lost more men In taking him then London. The King sent us, etc.

Sir Edward Hayles {11} was wond’rous rich, No flower in Kent yields honey In more abundance to the bee Then they from him suck money; Yet hee’s as chearfull as the best— Judge Jenkins sees no reason That honest men for wealth should be Accused of high treason. The King sent us, etc.

Old Sir George Strangways {12} he came in, Though he himself submitted, Yet as a traytor he must be Excepted and committed: Yet they th’ exception now take off, But not the sequestrations, Hee must forsooth to Goldsmith’s-hall, The place of desolation. The King sent us, etc.

Honest Sir Berr’s a reall man, As ere was lapt in leather; But he (God blesse us) loves the King, And therefore was sent hither. He durst be sheriff, and durst make The Parliament acquainted What he intended for to doe, And for this was attainted. The King sent us, etc.

Sir Benefield, {13} Sir Walter Blunt, Are Romishly affected, So’s honest Frank of Howard’s race, And slaughter is suspected. {14} But how the devill comes this about, That Papists are so loyall, And those that call themselves God’s saints Like devils do destroy all? The King sent us, etc.

Jack Hewet {15} will have wholesome meat, And drink good wine, if any; His entertainment’s free and neat, His choyce of friends not many; Jack is a loyall-hearted man, Well parted and a scholar; He’ll grumble if things please him not, But never grows to choller. The King sent us, etc.

Gallant Sir Thomas, {16} bold and stout (Brave Lunsford), children eateth; But he takes care, where he eats one, There he a hundred getteth; When Harlow’s wife brings her long bills, He wishes she were blinded; When shee speaks loud, as loud he swears The woman’s earthly-minded. The King sent us, etc.

Sir Lewis {17} hath an able pen, Can cudgell a committee; He makes them doe him reason, though They others do not pitty. Brave Cleaveland had a willing minde, Frank Wortley was not able, But Lewis got foure pound per weeke For’s children and his table. The King sent us, etc.

Giles Strangwayes {18} has a gallant soul, A brain infatigable; What study he ere undertakes To master it hee’s able: He studies on his theoremes, And logarithmes for number; He loves to speake of Lewis Dives, {19} And they are ne’er asunder. The King sent us, etc.

Sir John Marlow’s {20} a loyall man (If England ere bred any), He bang’d the pedlar back and side, Of Scots he killed many. Had General King {21} done what he should, And given the blew-caps battail, Wee’d make them all run into Tweed By droves, like sommer cattell. The King sent us, etc.

Will Morton’s {22} of that Cardinal’s race, Who made that blessed maryage; He is most loyall to his King, In action, word, and carryage; His sword and pen defends the cause, If King Charles thinke not on him, Will is amongst the rest undone,— The Lord have mercy on him! The King sent us, etc.

Tom Conisby {23} is stout and stern, Yet of a sweet condition; To them he loves his crime was great, He read the King’s commission, And required Cranborn to assist; He charged, but should have pray’d him; Tom was so bold he did require All for the King should aid him. The King sent us, etc.

But I Win. Bodnam {24} had forgot, Had suffer’d so much hardship; There’s no man in the Towre had left The King so young a wardship; He’s firme both to the church and crowne, The crown law and the canon; The Houses put him to his shifts, And his wife’s father Mammon. The King sent us, etc.

Sir Henry Vaughan {25} looks as grave As any beard can make him; Those come poore prisoners for to see Doe for our patriarke take him. Old Harry is a right true-blue, As valiant as Pendraggon; And would be loyall to his King, Had King Charles ne’er a rag on. The King sent us, etc.

John Lilburne {26} is a stirring blade, And understands the matter; He neither will king, bishops, lords, Nor th’ House of Commons flatter: John loves no power prerogative, But that derived from Sion; As for the mitre and the crown, Those two he looks awry on. The King sent us, etc.

Tom Violet {27} swears his injuries Are scarcely to be numbred; He was close prisoner to the State These score dayes and nine hundred; For Tom does set down all the dayes, And hopes he has good debters; ’Twould be no treason (Jenkin sayes) To bring them peaceful letters. The King sent us, etc.

Poore Hudson {28} of all was the last, For it was his disaster, He met a turncoat swore that he Was once King Charles his master; So he to London soon was brought, But came in such a season, Their martial court was then cry’d down, They could not try his treason. The king sent us, etc.

Else Hudson had gone to the pot, Who is he can abide him? For he was master to the King, And (which is more) did guide him. Had Hudson done (as Judas did), Most loyally betray’d him, The Houses are so noble, they As bravely would have paid him. The King sent us, etc.

We’ll then conclude with hearty healths To King Charles and Queen Mary; To the black lad in buff (the Prince), So like his grandsire Harry; To York, to Glo’ster; may we not Send Turk and Pope defiance, Since we such gallant seconds have To strengthen our alliance? Wee’l drink them o’re and o’re again, Else we’re unthankfull creatures; Since Charles, the wise, the valiant King, Takes us for loyall traytors.

This if you will rhyme dogrell call, (That you please you may name it,) One of the loyal traytors here Did for a ballad frame it: Old Chevy Chace was in his minde; If any suit it better, All those concerned in the song Will kindly thank the setter.

UPON HIS MAJESTY’S COMING TO HOLMBY.

Charles I., after his surrender to the English Commissioners by the Scotch, was conveyed to Holmby House, Northamptonshire, 16th February, 1647.

HOLD out, brave Charles, and thou shaft win the field; Thou canst not lose thyself, unless thou yield On such conditions as will force thy hand To give away thy sceptre, crown, and land. And what is worse, to hazard by thy fall, To lose a greater crown, more worth than all.

Thy poor distressed Cavaliers rejoyced To hear thy royal resolution voiced, And are content far more poor to be Than yet they are, so it reflects from thee. Thou art our sovereign still, in spite of hate; Our zeal is to thy _person_, not thy _state_.

We are not so ambitious to desire Our drooping fortunes to be mounted higher, And thou so great a monarch, to our grief, Must sue unto thy subjects for relief: And when they sit and long debate about it, Must either stay their time, or go without it.

No, sacred prince, thy friends esteem thee more In thy distresses than ere they did before; And though their wings be clipt, their wishes fly To heaven by millions, for a fresh supply. That as thy cause was so betray’d by _men_, It may by _angels_ be restored agen.

I THANK YOU TWICE;

OR

The city courting their own ruin, Thank the Parliament twice for their treble undoing.

A street ballad. From a broadside, 1647.

THE hierarchy is out of date, Our monarchy was sick of late, But now ’tis grown an excellent state: Oh, God a-mercy, Parliament!

The teachers knew not what to say, The ’prentices have leave to play, The people have all forgotten to pray; Still, God a-mercy, Parliament!

The Roundhead and the Cavalier Have fought it out almost seven year, And yet, methinks, they are never the near: Oh, God, etc.

The gentry are sequester’d all; Our wives you find at Goldsmith Hall, For there they meet with the devil and all; Still, God, etc.

The Parliament are grown to that height They care not a pin what his Majesty saith; And they pay all their debts with the public faith. Oh, God, etc.

Though all we have here is brought to nought, In Ireland we have whole lordships bought, There we shall one day be rich, ’tis thought: Still, God, etc.

We must forsake our father and mother, And for the State undo our own brother And never leave murthering one another: Oh, God, etc.

Now the King is caught and the devil is dead; Fairfax must be disbanded, Or else he may chance be Hotham-ed. Still, God, etc.

They have made King Charles a glorious king, He was told, long ago, of such a thing; Now he and his subjects have reason to sing, Oh, God, etc.

THE CITIES LOYALTIE TO THE KING.

(Aug. 13th, 1647.)

The city of London made several demonstrations this year to support the Presbyterian party in the Parliament against the Independents and the army. In the latter end of September, after the army had marched to London, and the Parliament acted under its influence, the lord mayor and a large part of the aldermen were committed to the Tower on the charge of high treason; and a new mayor for the rest of the year was appointed by the Parliament.

To the tune of “London is a fine town and a gallant city.”

WHY kept your train-bands such a stirre? Why sent you them by clusters? Then went into Saint James’s Parke? Why took you then their musters? Why rode my Lord up Fleet-street With coaches at least twenty, And fill’d they say with aldermen, As good they had been empty? London is a brave towne, Yet I their cases pitty; Their mayor and some few aldermen Have cleane undone the city.

The ’prentices are gallant blades, And to the king are clifty; But the lord mayor and aldermen Are scarce so wise as thrifty. I’le pay for the apprentices, They to the King were hearty; For they have done all that they can To advance their soveraignes party. London, etc.

What’s now become of your brave Poyntz? And of your Generall Massey? {29} If you petition for a peace, These gallants they will slash yee. Where now are your reformadoes? To Scotland gone together: ’Twere better they were fairly trusst Then they should bring them thither. London, etc.

But if your aldermen were false, Or Glyn, that’s your recorder! {30} Let them never betray you more, But hang them up in order. All these men may be coach’t as well As any other sinner Up Holborne, and ride forwarde still, To Tyburne to their dinner. London, &c.

God send the valiant General may Restore the King to glory! {31} Then that name I have honour’d so Will famous be in story; While if he doe not, I much feare The ruine of the nation, And (that I should be loth to see) His house’s desolation. London, etc.

THE LAWYERS’ LAMENTATION FOR THE LOSS OF CHARING-CROSS.

From a Collection of Loyal Songs, 1610 to 1660.

UNDONE! undone! the lawyers cry, They ramble up and down; We know not the way to _Westminster_ Now _Charing-Cross_ is down. Now fare thee well, old Charing-Cross, Then fare thee well, old stump; It was a thing set up by a King, And so pull’d down by the _Rump_.

And when they came to the bottom of the Strand They were all at a loss: This is not the way to _Westminster_, We must go by _Charing-Cross_. Then fare thee well, etc.

The Parliament did vote it down As a thing they thought most fitting, For fear it should fall, and so kill ’em all In the House as they were sitting. Then fare thee well, etc.

Some letters about this _Cross_ were found, Or else it might been freed; But I dare say, and safely swear, It could neither write nor read. Then fare thee well, etc.

The _Whigs_ they do affirm and say To _Popery_ it was bent; For what I know it might be so, For to church it never went, Then fare thee well, etc.

This cursed _Rump-Rebellious Crew_, They were so damn’d hard-hearted; They pass’d a vote that _Charing-Cross_ Should be taken down and carted: Then fare thee well, etc.

Now, _Whigs_, I would advise you all, ’Tis what I’d have you do; For fear the King should come again, Pray pull down _Tyburn_ too. Then fare thee well, etc.

THE DOWNFAL OF CHARING-CROSS.

Charing-Cross, as it stood before the civil wars, was one of those beautiful Gothic obelisks, erected to conjugal affection by Edward I., who built such a one wherever the hearse of his beloved Eleanor rested in its way from Lincolnshire to Westminster. But neither its ornamental situation, the beauty of its structure, nor the noble design of its erection (which did honour to humanity), could preserve it from the merciless zeal of the times; for in 1647 it was demolished by order of the House of Commons, as Popish and superstitious. This occasioned the following not unhumorous sarcasm, which has been often printed among the popular sonnets of those times.

The plot referred to in ver. 3 was that entered into by Mr Waller the poet, and others, with a view to reduce the city and Tower to the service of the King; for which two of them, Nath. Tomkins and Richard Chaloner, suffered death, July 5, 1643. Vid. Ath. Ox. 11. 24.—_Percy’s Reliques of Ancient English Poetry_.

UNDONE! undone! the lawyers are, They wander about the towne, Nor can find the way to Westminster Now Charing-Cross is downe: At the end of the Strand they make a stand, Swearing they are at a loss, And chaffing say, that’s not the way, They must go by Charing-Cross.