Reflecting on the Party Humours and Discourse of WHIGG and TORY. A New Song; Written in the Great Snow. The Words made to a pretty New Minuet.
Flow the flowry Rain,
That blanches round the Plain,
Filling the Hills and the Dales so fast,
Snow will soon be gone;
Then, then the vernal Sun
Brightly will right ye
From Troubles past,
When his Glory does restore me,
Wine his Creature,
Charms my Nature,
Drink, drink then to the Wise and Brave;
Torys raise your little King,
Whiggs, let all the Tories swing,
I, a Club more brisk will have.
Rot 'em, crys the Whigg,
Steeple Rogues grow so big,
To their New Perkin they roar a Song;
Oh, says High-Church Brood,
We can't be understood,
They take a King that can't speak our Tongue;
This a Canter,
This a Ranter;
One for true Kings,
One for New Kings;
Stark Mad, they often fall to Blows,
Whilst our jolly Beaus esprits
Drink, o're Wit and Harmony,
Hang the Sect can be our Foes.
