The Second Part of Saint George for England


To the Tune of
To drive the cold Winter away

Now the Rump is confounded,
There's an end of the Roundhead,
Who hath been such a bane to our Nation,
He hath now plaid his part,
And's gone out, like a fart,
Together with his reformation,
For by his good favour,
He hath left a bad savour,
But's no matter, wee'l trust him no more;
Kings and Queens may appear
Once again in our Sphere,
Now the Knaves are turned out of door.
And drive the cold Winter away.

Scot, Nevil , and Vane,
With the rest of that train,

Are in Oceana fled,
Sir Arthur the brave,
That's as arrant a Knave,
Has Harrington's Rota in's Head,
But hee's now full of cares
For his Foals, and his Mares,
As when he was routed before:
But I think he despairs,
By his Armes ; or his Prayers,
To set up the Rump any more.
And drive the cold Winter away.

I should never have thought,
That a Monk could have wrought
Such a Reformation so soon;
That House, which of late
Was the Jaques of our State ,
Will ere long be a House of Renown,
How good wits did jump,
In abusing the Rump ,
Whilst the House was press'd by the Rabble;
But our Hercules Monk ,
Though it grievously stunk,
Now hath cleans'd that Augean stable.
And drive the cold Winter away.

And now Mr. Prynne,
With the rest may come in,
And take their Places again,
For the House is made sweet,
For those Members to meet,
Though part of the Rump yet remain;
Nor need they to fear,
Though the Breeches be there,
Which were wrong'd both behind and before
For he saith, 'twas a chance,
And forgive him this once,
And He swears he will do so no more.
And drive the cold Winter away.

'Tis true there are some
Who are still for the Bum,
Such Tares will grow up with the Wheat,
And there they will be, till a Parliament come
That can give them a total defeat.
But yet I am told,
That the Rumpers do hold,
That the Saints may swim with the tyde:
Nor can it be Treason,
But Scripture and Reason,
Still to close with the stronger side.
And drive the cold Winter away.

Those Lawyers o'th' House,
As Baron Wild-goose
With treason Hill, Whitlock, and Say,
Were the bane of Laws,
And our Good Old Cause,
And 'twere well if such were away:
Some more there are to blame,
Whom I care not to name,
That are Men of the very same ranks,
'Mongst whom there is one,
That to Devil Barebone ,
For his ugly Petition gave thanks.
And drive the cold Winter away.

But I hope by this time,
Hee'l confess 'twas a crime,
To abet such a damnable crew,
Whose Petition was drawn
By Alcoran Vane,
Or else by Corbet the Jew:
By it you may know,
What the Rump meant to do,
And what Religion to frame;
So 'twas time for St. George,
That Rump to disgorge,
And to send it from whence it first came, &c.
And drive the cold Winter away.
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