Will you buy any bacon flitches, The fattest that ever were spent? They’re the sides of the old committees Fed up in the Long Parliament. Here’s a pair of bellows and tongs, And for a small matter I’ll sell ye ’um, They are made of the presbyter’s lungs, To blow up the coals of rebellion. Says old Simon, etc. I had thought to have given them once To some blacksmith for his forge; But now I have consider’d on’t, They are consecrate to the Church: So I’ll give them unto some quire, They will make the big organs roar, And the little pipes to squeak higher Than ever they could before. Says old Simon, etc. Here’s a couple of stools for sale, One’s square, and t’other is round; Betwixt them both, the tail Of the Rump fell down to the ground. Will you buy the State’s council-table, Which was made of the good wain-Scot? The frame was a tottering Babel, To uphold th’ Independent plot. Says old Simon, etc. Here’s the besom of Reformation, Which should have made clean the floor; But it swept the wealth out of the nation, And left us dirt good store. Will you buy the state’s spinning-wheel, Which spun for the roper’s trade? But better it had stood still, For now it has spun a fair thread. Says old Simon, etc. Here’s a glyster-pipe well tried, Which was made of a butcher’s stump, And has been safely applied To cure the colds of the Rump. Here’s a lump of pilgrim’s-salve, Which once was a justice of peace, Who Noll and the devil did serve, But now it is come to this, Says old Simon, etc. Here’s a roll of the State’s tobacco, If any good fellow will take it; No Virginia had e’er such a Smack-o, And I’ll tell you how they did make it: ’Tis th’ Engagement and Covenant cook’t Up with the abjuration oath, And many of them that have took’t Complain it was foul in the mouth. Says old Simon, etc. Yet the ashes may happily serve To cure the scab of the nation, Whene’er’t has an itch to swerve To rebellion by innovation. A lanthorn here is to be bought, The like was scarce ever gotten, For many plots it has found out Before they ever were thought on. Says old Simon, etc. Will you buy the Rump’s great saddle, With which it jockey’d the nation? And here is the bit and the bridle, And curb of dissimulation; And here’s the trunk-hose of the Rump, And their fair dissembling cloak; And a Presbyterian jump, With an Independent smock. Says old Simon, etc.