The fiend to Tiburn’s gone, There to die, there to die; Black is the north, anon Great storms will be; Therefore together now I leave him and th’ gallow,— So, newes-man, take ’em now, Soon they’l take thee. Finis, Fustis, Funis. A NEW BALLAD TO AN OLD TUNE,—TOM OF BEDLAM. January 17th, 1659.—From the King’s Ballads, British Museum. MAKE room for an honest red-coat (And that you’ll say’s a wonder), The gun and the blade Are the tools, and his trade Is, for _pay_, to _kill_ and _plunder_. Then away with the laws, And the “Good old Cause;” Ne’er talk of the Rump or the Charter; ’Tis the cash does the feat, All the rest’s but a cheat, Without _that_ there’s no faith nor quarter. ’Tis the mark of our coin “_God with us_,” And the grace of the Lord goes along with’t. When the _Georges_ are flown Then the Cause goes down, For the Lord has departed from it. Then away, etc. For Rome, or for Geneva, For the table or the altar, This spawn of a vote, He cares not a groat— For the _pence_ he’s your dog in a halter, Then away, etc. Tho’ the name of King or Bishop To nostrils pure may be loathsome, Yet many there are That agree with the May’r, That their lands are wondrous toothsome. Then away, etc. When our masters are poor we leave ’em, ’Tis the Golden Calf we bow to; We kill and we slay Not for conscience, but pay; Give us _that_, we’ll fight for you too. Then away, etc. ’Twas _that_ first turn’d the King out; The Lords next; then the Commons: ’Twas that kept up Noll, Till the Devil fetch’d his soul, And then it set the _Rump_ on’s. Then away, etc. Drunken Dick was a lame Protector, And Fleetwood a back-slider; These we served as the rest, But the City’s the beast That will never cast her rider. Then away, etc. When the Mayor holds the stirrup And the Shrieves cry, God save your honours; Then ’tis but a jump And up goes the Rump, That will spur to the Devil upon us. Then away, etc. And now for fling at your thimbles, Your bodkins, rings, and whistles; In truck for your toys We’ll fit you with boys (’Tis the doctrine of Hugh’s _Epistles_). Then away, etc. When your plate is gone, and your jewels, You must be next entreated To part with your bags, And to strip you to rags, And yet not think you’re cheated. Then away, etc.