A Collection, of One Hundred and Eighty Loyal Songs/Lay by your Pleading
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Ignoramus, An Excellent Song. To the Tune of, Lay by your Pleading.
1
Since Reformation
With Whigs in Fashion,
There’s neither Equity nor Justice in the Nation.
Against their Furies,
There no such Cure is,
As lately hath been wrought by Ignoramus-Juries.
Compaction of Faction
That breeds all Distraction,
Is at the Zenith Point, but will not bear an Action.
They sham us, and flam us,
And ram us, and damn us,
And then, in spight of Law, come off with Ignoramus.
Since Reformation
With Whigs in Fashion,
There’s neither Equity nor Justice in the Nation.
Against their Furies,
There no such Cure is,
As lately hath been wrought by Ignoramus-Juries.
Compaction of Faction
That breeds all Distraction,
Is at the Zenith Point, but will not bear an Action.
They sham us, and flam us,
And ram us, and damn us,
And then, in spight of Law, come off with Ignoramus.
2
Oh, how they Plotted,
Brimighams Voted,
And all the Mobile the Holy Cause promoted;
They preach’d up Treason,
At ev’ry season,
And taught the Multitude Rebellion was but reason,
With Breaches, Impeaches,
And most Loyal Speeches,
With Royal Blood again to glut the thirsty Leeches.
They sham us, and flam us, &c.
Oh, how they Plotted,
Brimighams Voted,
And all the Mobile the Holy Cause promoted;
They preach’d up Treason,
At ev’ry season,
And taught the Multitude Rebellion was but reason,
With Breaches, Impeaches,
And most Loyal Speeches,
With Royal Blood again to glut the thirsty Leeches.
They sham us, and flam us, &c.
3
’Tis such a Jury
Wou'’ pass no Tory,
Were he as Innocent as a Saint in Glory:
But let a Brother
Ravish his Mother,
Assassinate his King, he wou’d find no other.
They shamed, and blamed,
At Loyallists aimed;
But when a Whig’s repriev’d, the Town with Beacons flamed.
They sham us, and flam us, &c.
’Tis such a Jury
Wou'’ pass no Tory,
Were he as Innocent as a Saint in Glory:
But let a Brother
Ravish his Mother,
Assassinate his King, he wou’d find no other.
They shamed, and blamed,
At Loyallists aimed;
But when a Whig’s repriev’d, the Town with Beacons flamed.
They sham us, and flam us, &c.
4
This Ignoramus
With which they sham us,
Wou’d find against a York, to raise a Monmouth amus
Who clears a Traytor;
And a King Hater,
Against his Lawful Prince wou’d find sufficient matter.
They fought it, and wrought it,
Like Rebels they fought it,
And with the price of Royal Martyrs Blood they bought it.
They sham us, and flam us, &c.
This Ignoramus
With which they sham us,
Wou’d find against a York, to raise a Monmouth amus
Who clears a Traytor;
And a King Hater,
Against his Lawful Prince wou’d find sufficient matter.
They fought it, and wrought it,
Like Rebels they fought it,
And with the price of Royal Martyrs Blood they bought it.
They sham us, and flam us, &c.
5
At the Old Baily,
Where Rogues flock daily,
A greater Traytor far then Coleman, White or Staley;
Was late Indicted,
Witnesses cited,
But then he was set free; so the King was righted
’Gainst Princes, Offences
Prov’d in all senses;
But ’gainst a Whig there's no Truth in Evidences.
They sham us, and flam us, &c.
At the Old Baily,
Where Rogues flock daily,
A greater Traytor far then Coleman, White or Staley;
Was late Indicted,
Witnesses cited,
But then he was set free; so the King was righted
’Gainst Princes, Offences
Prov’d in all senses;
But ’gainst a Whig there's no Truth in Evidences.
They sham us, and flam us, &c.
6
But wot you what, Sir?
They found it not, Sir;
’Twas ev’ry Jurors case, and there lay all the Plot, Sir.
For at this season,
Shou’d they do reason,
Which of themselves wou’d scape, if they found it Treason?
Compassion in fashion,
The Int’rest of th’ Nation:
Oh, what a Godly point is self-preservation!
They sham us, and flam us, &c.
But wot you what, Sir?
They found it not, Sir;
’Twas ev’ry Jurors case, and there lay all the Plot, Sir.
For at this season,
Shou’d they do reason,
Which of themselves wou’d scape, if they found it Treason?
Compassion in fashion,
The Int’rest of th’ Nation:
Oh, what a Godly point is self-preservation!
They sham us, and flam us, &c.
7
’Las what is Conscience
In Baxter’s own sense,
When Int’rest lies at stake, an Oath and Law is Nonsense?
Now they will banter
Quaker and Ranter,
To find a Loyalist, and clear a Covenanter.
They’l wrangle and brangle,
The Soul intangle,
To save the Traytors Neck from the old Triangle.
They sham us, and flam us, &c.
’Las what is Conscience
In Baxter’s own sense,
When Int’rest lies at stake, an Oath and Law is Nonsense?
Now they will banter
Quaker and Ranter,
To find a Loyalist, and clear a Covenanter.
They’l wrangle and brangle,
The Soul intangle,
To save the Traytors Neck from the old Triangle.
They sham us, and flam us, &c.
8
Alass! for pity
Of this good City,
What will the Tories say in their Drunken Dity?
When all Abettors,
And Monarch-haters,
The Brethren damn’d their Souls to save malicious Traytors.
But mind it, long winded,
With prejudice blinded,
Lest what they did reject, another Jury find it.
Then sham us, and flam us, &c.
Alass! for pity
Of this good City,
What will the Tories say in their Drunken Dity?
When all Abettors,
And Monarch-haters,
The Brethren damn’d their Souls to save malicious Traytors.
But mind it, long winded,
With prejudice blinded,
Lest what they did reject, another Jury find it.
Then sham us, and flam us, &c.
The Loyal Conquest, or Destruction of Treason. Tune, Lay by your Pleading.
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’ry Bloody Whig must go to pot in time & 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’ry Bloody Whig must go to pot in time & season.
No shamming, nor flamming,
No ramming, nor damming,
No Ignoramus Jury’s now for Whigs, but only hanging.
2
Look a little further,
Place things in order,
Those that seek to kill the King, Godfry 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.
Look a little further,
Place things in order,
Those that seek to kill the King, Godfry 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 pashion,
And fears this new fashion,
Lest ev’ry Traytor hang himself, and spoil his best profession,
Tho’ four in the morning
Tyburn adorning,
He cries out for a score a time, to get his men their learning.
No shamming, nor flamming, &c.
Catch grows in pashion,
And fears this new fashion,
Lest ev’ry Traytor hang himself, and spoil his best profession,
Tho’ four in the morning
Tyburn adorning,
He cries 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 the Court in an hour,
And enter at the Traytors Gate, but ’twas not in their power,
Our Guards now are doubled,
E’r long they will be trebled,
The harmony of Gun & Drum, make guilty consciences troubled.
No shamming, nor flamming, &c.
Surprising the Tower,
And the Court in an hour,
And enter at the Traytors Gate, but ’twas not in their power,
Our Guards now are doubled,
E’r long they will be trebled,
The harmony of Gun & Drum, make guilty consciences 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’r 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 blood’st Canibals 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’r 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 blood’st Canibals that ever man did read on.
No shamming, nor flamming,
No Ramming, nor Damming,
No Ignoramus Jury’s now for Whigs but only hanging.
The Newcastle Associators; Or the Trimmers Loyalty, being a true Relation how several Sanctified Brethren were Apprehended, and found Signing the Association, (several others having made their escapes) at the Assizes at Mewcastle, August the 2d. 1684. To the Tune of, Ignoramus.
1
Lay by your Reason,
Truth’s out of Season;
Since Treason’s Loyalty, and Loyalty is Treason.
Toney the Jealous,
Sidney the Zealous,
Contriv’d the Nations fall, yet both were Loyal Fellows;
With Patience, Narrations,
And Associations.
Lord what ado there was for Teckley’s Reformations,
They Plotted, and Lotted, and Sotted, and Voted;
And never will have done, ’till their Heads are all promoted.
Lay by your Reason,
Truth’s out of Season;
Since Treason’s Loyalty, and Loyalty is Treason.
Toney the Jealous,
Sidney the Zealous,
Contriv’d the Nations fall, yet both were Loyal Fellows;
With Patience, Narrations,
And Associations.
Lord what ado there was for Teckley’s Reformations,
They Plotted, and Lotted, and Sotted, and Voted;
And never will have done, ’till their Heads are all promoted.
2
With Insurrections,
Lawless Objections,
They study’d to promote the Commonwealth projections.
Monarchy-Haters,
Associators,
Did swear into a League with Rascals, Whigs & Traytors;
They venture, Indenter,
In Bond they do Enter:
Whilst at the Royal Pair their malice still did center:
They Plotted, and Lotted, and Sotted, and Voted,
And never will have done till all the Tribe’s promoted.
With Insurrections,
Lawless Objections,
They study’d to promote the Commonwealth projections.
Monarchy-Haters,
Associators,
Did swear into a League with Rascals, Whigs & Traytors;
They venture, Indenter,
In Bond they do Enter:
Whilst at the Royal Pair their malice still did center:
They Plotted, and Lotted, and Sotted, and Voted,
And never will have done till all the Tribe’s promoted.
3
But the brave Chief Justice,
In whom our trust is,
Will do the Rebels Right, who in Law the first is.
In this high Station,
Purging the Nation
Of all that did promote this damn’d Association:
Bakers and Quakers,
And Monarchy-haters,
And all that joyn in League with Associators,
They Plotted, and Lotted, and Sotted, and Voted,
And never will have done, till all their Train’s Promoted,
But the brave Chief Justice,
In whom our trust is,
Will do the Rebels Right, who in Law the first is.
In this high Station,
Purging the Nation
Of all that did promote this damn’d Association:
Bakers and Quakers,
And Monarchy-haters,
And all that joyn in League with Associators,
They Plotted, and Lotted, and Sotted, and Voted,
And never will have done, till all their Train’s Promoted,
4
He late surprizes,
In quaint disguises,
No less then seventeen at Newcastle Sizes:
Villains he scented,
That had indented,
And with the Cooper had a new Tap invented;
Jack Shallow, Sim. Swallow,
Will. Weeks, and Tom. Tallow,
Nine were for Traytors found, the next in course will follow.
They Plotted, and Lotted, and Sotted, and Voted,
And never will have done, till all the Tribe’s promoted.
He late surprizes,
In quaint disguises,
No less then seventeen at Newcastle Sizes:
Villains he scented,
That had indented,
And with the Cooper had a new Tap invented;
Jack Shallow, Sim. Swallow,
Will. Weeks, and Tom. Tallow,
Nine were for Traytors found, the next in course will follow.
They Plotted, and Lotted, and Sotted, and Voted,
And never will have done, till all the Tribe’s promoted.
5
These on their Tryal
Wou’d all be Loyal,
Altho’ the Royal Race they study'd to destroy all.
Their False Hearts sounded,
The rest Confounded;
Guilt flying in their Face, for the Fact, absconded.
Both Richard the Bitcher,
And William the Letcher,
Whilst Thumb, & Dick, ^ Tom are left behind to stretch for’t.
They Plotted, and Lotted, and Sotted, and Voted,
And in good time we hope will likewise be promoted.
These on their Tryal
Wou’d all be Loyal,
Altho’ the Royal Race they study'd to destroy all.
Their False Hearts sounded,
The rest Confounded;
Guilt flying in their Face, for the Fact, absconded.
Both Richard the Bitcher,
And William the Letcher,
Whilst Thumb, & Dick, ^ Tom are left behind to stretch for’t.
They Plotted, and Lotted, and Sotted, and Voted,
And in good time we hope will likewise be promoted.
6
Toney that scented,
And first invented
This Holy Covenant, was the first absented.
Of all forsaken,
To save his Bacon,
He into Whigland crawls, but was overtaken.
The Starter’s a Martyr,
Death gives no quarter,
Whilst Walcot and the rest were by the head cut shorter.
They Plotted and Lotted, and Sotted, and Voted,
And never will have done till their heads are all promoted.
Toney that scented,
And first invented
This Holy Covenant, was the first absented.
Of all forsaken,
To save his Bacon,
He into Whigland crawls, but was overtaken.
The Starter’s a Martyr,
Death gives no quarter,
Whilst Walcot and the rest were by the head cut shorter.
They Plotted and Lotted, and Sotted, and Voted,
And never will have done till their heads are all promoted.
7
Russel did try for’t,
Sidney did die for’t,
While Rumbold, Gray & Tom, with the rest did flie for’t:
For all their Teaching,
Ferguson’s Preaching,
His Head’s upon a Pole, and his Quarters Bleaching:
The Starter’s a Martyr,
The Squire gives no Quarter,
For now the Bully Knight is by the head cut shorter.
They Plotted, and Lotted, and Sotted, and Voted,
And never will have done till their quarters are Promoted.
Russel did try for’t,
Sidney did die for’t,
While Rumbold, Gray & Tom, with the rest did flie for’t:
For all their Teaching,
Ferguson’s Preaching,
His Head’s upon a Pole, and his Quarters Bleaching:
The Starter’s a Martyr,
The Squire gives no Quarter,
For now the Bully Knight is by the head cut shorter.
They Plotted, and Lotted, and Sotted, and Voted,
And never will have done till their quarters are Promoted.
8
Now be confounded
Whig, Trimmer, Roundhead,
And all the Factious lump of Treason so confounded.
By every Action,
We see your Faction
Tends only to involve the Nation in distraction.
Your Lopping, and Fopping,
And Blunderbuss Popping,
And all your flying for’t, won’t save your Necks from Chopping.
You Plotted, and Lotted, and Sotted, and Voted,
And in good time we hope you shall be all promoted.
Now be confounded
Whig, Trimmer, Roundhead,
And all the Factious lump of Treason so confounded.
By every Action,
We see your Faction
Tends only to involve the Nation in distraction.
Your Lopping, and Fopping,
And Blunderbuss Popping,
And all your flying for’t, won’t save your Necks from Chopping.
You Plotted, and Lotted, and Sotted, and Voted,
And in good time we hope you shall be all promoted.