The truth is, the town deserves it, ’Tis a brainless, heartless monster: At a club they may bawl, Or declare at their hall, And yet at a push not one stir. Then away, etc. Sir Arthur vow’d he’ll treat ’em Far worse than the men of Chester; He’s bold now they’re cow’d, But he was nothing so loud When he lay in the ditch at Lester. Then away, etc. The Lord has left John Lambert, And the spirit, Feak’s anointed; But why, O Lord, Hast thou sheath’d thy sword? Lo! thy saints are disappointed. Then away, etc. Though Sir Henry be departed, Sir John makes good the place now; And to help out the work Of the glorious Kirk, Our brethren march apace too. Then away, etc. Whilst divines and statesmen wrangle, Let the Rump-ridden nation bite on’t; There are none but we That are sure to go free, For the soldier’s still in the right on’t. Then away, etc. If our masters won’t supply us With money, food, and clothing, Let the State look to’t, We’ll find one that will do’t, Let him live—we will not damn. Then away, etc. SAINT GEORGE AND THE DRAGON, ANGLICE MERCURIUS POETICUS. “The following ballad,” says Mr Wright in the Political Ballads of the Commonwealth, published for the Percy Society, “was written on the occasion of the overthrow of the Rump by Monck. He arrived in London on the third of February, and professed himself a determined supporter of the party then uppermost. On the ninth and tenth he executed their orders against the city; but suddenly on the eleventh he joined the city and the Presbyterian party, and demanded the readmission of the members who were secluded formerly from the Long Parliament. This measure put an end to the reign of the Rump, and immediately afterwards the Parliament dissolved itself, and a new one was called.—(February 28th, 1659.)”—All the notes to this Ballad are from the pen of Mr Wright. To the tune of “The Old Courtier of the Queen’s,” etc. NEWS! news! here’s the occurrences and a new Mercurius, A dialogue betwixt Haselrigg the baffled and Arthur the furious; With Ireton’s {50} readings upon legitimate and spurious, Proving that a saint may be the son of a whore, for the satisfaction of the curious. From a Rump insatiate as the sea, Libera nos, Domine. Here’s the true reason of the citie’s infatuation, Ireton has made it drunk with the cup of abomination; That is, the cup of the whore, after the Geneva Interpretation, Which with the juyce of Titchburn’s grapes {51} must needs cause intoxication. From a Rump, etc.