Classic Poem

C O m Drawer, some wine,
Or wee'll pull down the Sign,
For we are all joviall Compounders:
We'll make the house ring,
With healths to our KING,
And confusion light on his Confounders.

Since Goldsmiths Committee
Affords us no pitty,
Our sorrows in wine we will steep 'um,
They force us to take
Two Oaths, but wee'll make
A third, that we ne'er meant to keep 'um.

And next, who e're sees
We drink on our knees,
To the King, may he thirst that repines:
A fig for those Traytors
That look to our waters,
They have nothing to do with our Wines.

And next, here's a Cup
To the Queen, fill it up,
Were it poyson we would make an end on't:
May Charles and she meet.
And tread under feet
Both Presbyter and Independent.

To the Prince, and all others,
His Sisters and Brothers,
As low in condition as high born,
We'll drink this, and pray
That shortly they may
See all them that wrongs them at Tyburn .

And next, here's three bouls
To all gallant souls,
That for the King did, and will venter;
May they flourish when those
That are his, and their foes,
Are hang'd and ram'd down to the Center.

And next, let a Glasse
To our undoers passe,
Attended with two or three Curses:
May plagues sent from Hell
Stuff their bodies as well
As the Cavaliers coyn doth their purses.

May the Cannibals of Pym
Eat them up limb by limb,
Or a hot Feaver scorch 'um to embers;
Pox keep 'um in bed
Untill they are dead,
And repent for the losse of their Members.

And may they be found
In all to abound,
Both with Heaven and the Countries anger,
May they never want Fractions,
Doubts, Fears, and Distractions,
Till the Gallow-tree choaks them from danger.