[75]
[8]
I’ll tell you what, Sir,
You muſt go Plot, Sir
And get better Witneſs e’r wiſe men go to pot Sir,
When ſuch abettors,
Proteſtant haters,
Would damn their ſouls to hell to make them wicked Traytors;
We mind it and wind it,
And are not now blinded,
For what we now reject, no honeſt Jury ’le find it,
They ſham us, and flam us,
They ram us and damn us,
When, according to the Law, we find Ignoramus.
I’ll tell you what, Sir,
You muſt go Plot, Sir
And get better Witneſs e’r wiſe men go to pot Sir,
When ſuch abettors,
Proteſtant haters,
Would damn their ſouls to hell to make them wicked Traytors;
We mind it and wind it,
And are not now blinded,
For what we now reject, no honeſt Jury ’le find it,
They ſham us, and flam us,
They ram us and damn us,
When, according to the Law, we find Ignoramus.
A Song.
[1]
A Pox on Whigs we’l now grow wiſe
let’s cry out guard the Throne,
By that we’l damn the Good Old Cauſe,
and make the Game our own:
Religion, that ſhall ſtoop to us,
and ſo ſhall Liberty,
We’l make their Laws as thin as Lawn,
ſuch Tory Rogues are We.
A Pox on Whigs we’l now grow wiſe
let’s cry out guard the Throne,
By that we’l damn the Good Old Cauſe,
and make the Game our own:
Religion, that ſhall ſtoop to us,
and ſo ſhall Liberty,
We’l make their Laws as thin as Lawn,
ſuch Tory Rogues are We.
[2]
When once that Preaching Whineing Crew
are cruſh’d and quite undone,
When once that Preaching Whineing Crew
are cruſh’d and quite undone,
