A Choice Collection of 120 Loyal Songs/The Loyal Conquest
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For other versions of this work, see The Loyal Conquest.
The Loyal Conquest, or Destruction of Treason. Tune, Lay by your Pleading, the Law ly’s a Bleeding.
1.
Now Loyal Tories
May Tryumph in Glories,
The fatal Plot is now betray’d,
The rest were Shams and Stories.
Now against Treason,
We have Law and Reason;
And ev’y Bloody Whig must go,
To Pot in Time and Season.
No Shamming, nor Flamming,
No Ramming, nor Damming,
No Ignoramus Jury’s now,
For Whigs, but only Hanging.
Now Loyal Tories
May Tryumph in Glories,
The fatal Plot is now betray’d,
The rest were Shams and Stories.
Now against Treason,
We have Law and Reason;
And ev’y Bloody Whig must go,
To Pot in Time and Season.
No Shamming, nor Flamming,
No Ramming, nor Damming,
No Ignoramus Jury’s now,
For Whigs, but only Hanging.
2.
L:ook a little farther,
Place things in order,
Those that seek to Kill the King,
Godfrey might Murther,
Now they’r Detected,
By Heaven Neglected,
In black dispair cut their Throats,
Thus Pluto’s work’s effected.
No Shamming, nor Flamming, &c.
L:ook a little farther,
Place things in order,
Those that seek to Kill the King,
Godfrey might Murther,
Now they’r Detected,
By Heaven Neglected,
In black dispair cut their Throats,
Thus Pluto’s work’s effected.
No Shamming, nor Flamming, &c.
3.
Catch grows in Passion,
And fears this New Fashion;
Lest ev’ry Traytor hang himself,
And spoyl his best Profession.
Tho’ four in a Morning
Tyburn Adorning,
He Cryes out for a Score a time,
To get his men their Learning.
No Shamming, nor Flamming, &c.
Catch grows in Passion,
And fears this New Fashion;
Lest ev’ry Traytor hang himself,
And spoyl his best Profession.
Tho’ four in a Morning
Tyburn Adorning,
He Cryes out for a Score a time,
To get his men their Learning.
No Shamming, nor Flamming, &c.
4.
Now we have sounded
The bottom which confounded,
Our Plotting Parliament of late
Who had our King surrounded.
Hamden and others,
And Trenchard were Brothers;
Who were to kill the King and Duke
And hang us for their Murthers.
No Shamming, nor Flamming, &c.
Now we have sounded
The bottom which confounded,
Our Plotting Parliament of late
Who had our King surrounded.
Hamden and others,
And Trenchard were Brothers;
Who were to kill the King and Duke
And hang us for their Murthers.
No Shamming, nor Flamming, &c.
5.
Surprising the Tower
And Court in an Hour,
And enter at the Traytors Gate,
But was not in their Power,
Our Guards now are Doubled,
E’re long they will be Trebled,
The Harmony of Gun and Drum,
Makes Guilty Conscience Troubled.
No Shamming, nor Flamming, &c.
Surprising the Tower
And Court in an Hour,
And enter at the Traytors Gate,
But was not in their Power,
Our Guards now are Doubled,
E’re long they will be Trebled,
The Harmony of Gun and Drum,
Makes Guilty Conscience Troubled.
No Shamming, nor Flamming, &c.
6.
If Grey is Retaken,
The Root o’th’ Plot is shaken,
Russel lately lost his Head,
The bleeding Cause to Waken.
M—h in Town still,
With Armstrong his Council;
The Lady Gray may find him out
Under some Smock or Gown still.
No Shamming, nor Flamming, &c.
If Grey is Retaken,
The Root o’th’ Plot is shaken,
Russel lately lost his Head,
The bleeding Cause to Waken.
M—h in Town still,
With Armstrong his Council;
The Lady Gray may find him out
Under some Smock or Gown still.
No Shamming, nor Flamming, &c.
7.
Give ’em no Quarter,
They Aim at Crown and Garter,
They’re of that bloody Regiment,
That made their King a Martyr.
Leave none to breed on,
They’d make us to bleed on,
They are all the bloody’st Caniballs
That ever man did Read on.
No Shamming, nor Flamming,
No Ramming, nor Damming,
No Ignoramus Jury’s now,
For Whigs, but only Hanging.
Give ’em no Quarter,
They Aim at Crown and Garter,
They’re of that bloody Regiment,
That made their King a Martyr.
Leave none to breed on,
They’d make us to bleed on,
They are all the bloody’st Caniballs
That ever man did Read on.
No Shamming, nor Flamming,
No Ramming, nor Damming,
No Ignoramus Jury’s now,
For Whigs, but only Hanging.