Classic Poem

Old Oliver's gone to the Dogs,
Oh! No I do mistake,
Hee's gone in a Wherry
Over the Ferry,
Is call'd the Stygian Lake.
But Cerberus that Great Porter
Did read him such a Lecture,
That made him to roar
When he came a-shoar

For being Lord Protector .
News, news, news,
Brave Cavaliers be merry ,
Chear up your sad souls
With Bacchus Bowls ,
Of Claret, White, and Sherry.

Where is that Cursed Crew
Were of the last Kings Jury,
By thy damned soul
Go fetch them Nol
Quoth Pluto in his fury.
Where is old Joan thy wife?
Her Highness I would see,
Come let her in
She shall be my Queen,
For a Cuckold thou shalt be.
News, news , &c.

Make room for a Ramping Lady ,
One of the Devils race,
This ugly Witch,
And nasty Bitch
Spat in the King's sweet face.
I'le make her a Lady of Honour,
Quoth Pluto let her in,
And open the door;
For this old Whore
Shall wait upon my Queen.
News, news , &c.

Here comes Sir HENRY MARTYN
As good as ever pist,
This wenching beast
Had Whores at least
A thousand on his list:
This made the Devils laugh,
So good a friend to see,
At Pluto's Court
There's better sport,
Come thou shalt dwell with me.
News, news &c.

Bid Caron bring his Boat,
Here comes a man of fame,
Who hath waited here
Above a year,
JACK BRADSHAW is his name,
O ho quoth Pluto then,
As loud as he could yawl,
By Oliver's Nose
I did suppose
Thou hadst been at White-hale
News, news , &c.

Thou'rt welcome to my Court,
Here on my Scroul I find,
I have in store
A thousand more
As Arrant Rogues behind.
Why art thou sad quoth Pluto ?
My Servants must appear,
Then do not grudge
I'le made thee Judge
Of all my Subjects here.
News, news , &c.

Here comes a friend of mine,
Make room for the Lord LISLE,
His guests at last
Did come so fast
That made old Pluto smile.
Thou must along with me,
Now 'tis too late to rue it,
Thy damned Soul
Is on my Scroul,
Remember Doctor Hewet .
News, news , &c.

What is the Cause Sir ARTHUR
Your Pulses go so quick?
'Tis Bishops Lands
That's in your hands
Which makes them beat so thick.
Thy Oath of Abjuration
Was far a worser thing,
For the Devil and thou
Did study how
We should abjure our KING.

News, news , &c.
Next comes Sir HENRY MILDMAY
As good as ever twang'd,
What Laws had we
When he scap'd free
And honest men were hang'd?
Perhaps the KING's good grace
May pardon what is past,
But that's all one
At Pluto's Throne
Thou must appear at last,
News, news , &c.

Shall Traytors be conceal'd?
Oh! no Sir HENRY VANE,
'Tis a pittifull thing
For our good KING
When Traytors are in grain.
If thou wilt take the pains,
Then pray thee go and look,
For I am told
Thou art enrol'd
In Pluto's bloody Book.
News, news , &c.

Here comes the Learned SPEAKER,
Whose baggs of Gold do rust,
Who would not hear
A Cavalier
Though his Cause were nere so just
Corruption bears the sway
Where Justice is deny'd,
The Devil take him,
And Mr. PYM,
And likewise Collonel PRIDE,
News, news , &c.

Make room for one-ey'd HEWSON,
A Lord of such account,
'Twas a pretty Jest
That such a Beast
Should to such honour mount.
When Coblers were in fashion,
And Nigherds in such grace;
'Twas sport to see
How PRIDE and he
Did justle for the Place.
News, news , &c.

What dreadfull shew is this?
'Tis PRIDEAUX or his Ghost,
He makes such hast,
And comes so fast,
I think He's riding Post.
A Lawyer if thou art,
Amongst the damned souls,
At Pluto's Barre,
'Tis better farre
Then pleading at the Roles.
News, news , &c.

Oh welcome Dr. PETERS,
And Cornet JOYCE also,
One of these twain
Was worse than Cain
That gave the deadly blow:
One of these Cursed Rogues
Was he that did the feat,
But some men say
'Twas that Lord GRAY
That made the work compleat.
News, news , &c.

A Boat for this Old Doctor
To cross the River Styx ,
For Pluto he
Desired to see
Some of his Antick tricks;
My Chaplain thou shalt be,
What more can be desired?
Oh! quoth he
That cannot be,
My Lease is not expir'd.
News, news , &c.

Oh! my Rump , my Rump , my Rump ,
My Rump smells wonderous strong,
The blisters rise
About my Thighs
With voting here so long,
My Rump is grown so sore,
I can no longer sit,
Hold up thy Bum,
The Devil is come
With a Plaister to cure it.
News, news , &c.

When Pluto keeps his feasts,
The Rogues must all appear,
And Mr. SCOT
I had forgot,
Must tast of this good Chear.
Find out the Man, quoth Pluto ,
That is the greater sinner,
If COOK be he
Then COOK shall be
The Cook to Cook my dinner,
News, news , &c.

God blesse the KINGS good grace,
And keep him from his foes,
I wish the rather
Because his Father
Had too too many of those.
God blesse the Duke of YORK ,
His Sister, and Another,
Accurst be those
That do oppose
The sending for their Mother.
News, news, news,
Brave Cavaliers be merry ,
Chear up your sad souls
With Bacchus Bowls ,
Of Claret, White, and Sherry.