Classic Poem

Since sixteen hundred forty and odd,
We have soundly been lashed with our own rod
And we have bowed our selves down at a Tyrants nod,
Which no body can deny .

Whe have seen a new thing call'd a Council of State,
Upheld by a Power that's now out of date,
Put to th' Question by th' Members of Forty eight,
Which , &c.

We have seen what we hope we shall ne'r see agin
Now Lambert and Desbrow are snar'd in the gin,
The tayl cunningly pieced unto the skin.
Which , &c.

A sword that has frighted our Laws out of door,
A Back-sword I wot, that must cut so no more,
By the honour of Monk now quitting that score,
Which , &c.

A Vote lately called the Judgement o' th' House,
To be esteemed and reputed not worth a Louse,
And the Grandee of Portsmouth made a fine chouse
Which , 'c.

We have seen an Assessment, a thing for Taxes,
Though the Common-wealth wane the private Waxes:
Swords into Plowshares, and such Bills into Axes,
Which , &c.

Another new story of Qualification,
That belong'd to no honest man of the Nation,
Like the ill contrived Authors, quite out of Fashion,
Which , &c.

Original sin was damn'd by that Law,
The Son of a Cavalier made a Jack-straw,
To be chewed again by their ravenous Jaw,
Which , &c.

To fill up the House, and to shuffle the deal,
New Writs issued out, for their new Common-weal,
But it's not worth asking who is't payes the Seal,
Which , &c.

I wonder who payes the late Parliament Printers,
That Place they may hold as many Summers as Winters,
And wish their Presses were broken in splinters,
Which , &c.

A great many Traytors by them lately made,
Makes Treason be thought a Common trade,
Sir George Booth and Jack Lambert awhile in the shade,
Which , &c.

We shall now sure give over that word sequester ,
Now the tail is cured of that rankling fester,
The twentieth of April is much about Easter,
Which , &c.

How many thanks of the House ha' been idely spent
Upon people that still have been Male-content,
But they must fall from those dainties in this shriving Lent,
Which , &c.

That honourable favour no more shall be given
To the factious merit of a Party Hell-driven,
For now our twenty years odds will be even,
Which , &c.

Then room for our Prisoners detain'd in the Tower,
And away with the new Lieutenants power,
Who's minting the widdowed Good Old Causes Dower,
Which , &c.

Sir George Booth shall not think this a hit of fate,
Nor Excuse his Keeper whose Warrant's out 'f date,
We shall see them all cry Peccavi too late,
Which , &c.

Eleven years Mischief, tumults and rage,
Are the onely Memorials of this Common-wealths age,
And all to be thankt by Haslerigg the sage,
Which , &c.

Let our Liberty-keepers be chang'd to Restorer ,
Let our Peace carry Truth and Duty before her,
Hee's a Fool and a Knave that else will adore,
Which , &c.

This Janus -like freedom, though it please not all,
And aversly doth look on the Scepter and Ball,
Will shut up his Temple at next Common-hall,
Which , &c.

Then let's pray to Great Jove , that made Monk so kind
To our desperate estate, to put him in mind,
With the rest of our Worthies of the Great Thing behind,
Which no body can deny .