Classic Poem

To the Tune of " The Irish Jig "

1.

'Twere folly if ever
The Whigs should endeavor
Disowning their plots, when all the world knows 'em;
Did they not fix
On a Council of Six
Appointed to govern, though no body chose 'em?
Those that bore sway
Knew not one would obey.
Did Trinculo make more ridiculous pother?
Monmouth's their head
To strike monarchy dead.
They chose themselves viceroys all o'er one another.

2.

Was't not a damned thing
For Russell and Hampden
To serve all the projects of hot-headed Tony?
But more untoward
To appoint my Lord Howard
By his own purse and credit to get men and money;
That at Knightsbridge did hide
Those brisk boys unspied
That at Shaftesbury's whistle were ready to follow;
When aid he should bring,
Like a true Brentford king,
Was here with a whoop, and gone with a hollow.

3.

Algernon Sidney,
Of commonwealth kidney,
Composed a sad libel (aye, marry, was it!),
Writ to occasion
Ill blood in a nation,
And therefore dispersed all o'er his own closet.
'Tis not the writing
Was proved, nor inditing,
And though he urged statutes, what was it but fooling,
Since a new trust is
Placed in the chief justice
To damn law and reason by overruling?

4.

What if a traitor,
In spite of the state, sir,
Will cut his own throat, from one ear to t'other?
Why should a new freak
Make Braddon and Speke
To be more concerned than his wife or his brother?
A razor all bloody,
Thrown out of his study,
Is evidence strong of his desperate guilt, sir!
So Godfrey, when dead,
Full of horror and dread,
Ran his sword through his body up to the hilt, sir.

5.

Can the case be thought hard
Of Sir Patience Ward,
Who loved his own rights more than those of His Highness?
Of disloyal ears,
As on record appears,
Nor to hear, when 'twould do the Papists a kindness!
An old doting cit,
With his Elizabeth wit,
Against the French mode, for freedom to hope on;
Those ears that told lies
Were less dull than his eyes,
And both of them shut when all others' were open.

6.

All Europe together
Can't show such a father,
So tenderly nice of a son's reputation,
As our good king is
Who labored to bring his,
By tricks, to subscribe to a sham declaration.
'Twas with good reason
He pardoned his treason,
To obey (not his own, but) his brother's command, sir;
To merit whose grace
He must in the first place
Confess he's a villain under his hand, sir.

7.

While fate the court blesses
With daily successes,
And giving up charters goes round like a frolic;
While our Duke Nero,
The church's blind hero,
By murders is planting his faith apostolic;
Some modern sages,
More wise than past ages',
Would ours establish by popish successors.
Queen Bess never thought it,
And Cecil forgot it —
'Twas lately found out by the prudent Addressors.