Cavalier Songs and Ballads of England from 1642 to 1684 | Page 7

make

laws, But no good they will cause Till the King and his realm agree.
A pure religion I would have, Not mixt with human wit; And I cannot
endure that each ignorant knave Should dare to meddle with it. The
tricks of the law I would fain withdraw, That it may be alike to each
degree: And I fain would have such As do meddle so much, With the
King and the church agree.
We have pray'd and pray'd that the wars might cease, And we be free
men made; I would fight, if my fighting would bring any peace, But
war is become a trade. Our servants did ride With swords by their side,
And made their masters footmen be; But we'll be no more slaves To the
beggars and knaves Now the King and the realms do agree.

Ballad: The Commoners

Written in 1645 to the Club-men, by Alex. Brome.
Come your ways, Bonny boys Of the town, For now is your time or
never: Shall your fears Or your cares Cast you down? Hang your
wealth And your health, Get renown. We are all undone for ever, Now
the King and the crown Are tumbling down, And the realm doth groan
with disasters; And the scum of the land Are the men that command,
And our slaves are become our masters.
Now our lives, Children, wives, And estate, Are a prey to the lust and
plunder, To the rage Of our age; And the fate Of our land Is at hand;
'Tis too late To tread these usurpers under. First down goes the crown,
Then follows the gown, Thus levell'd are we by the Roundhead; While
Church and State must Feed their pride and their lust, And the kingdom
and king be confounded.
Shall we still Suffer ill And be dumb, And let every varlet undo us?
Shall we doubt Of each lout That doth come, With a voice Like the
noise Of a drum, And a sword or a buff-coat, to us? Shall we lose our
estates By plunder and rates, To bedeck those proud upstarts that
swagger? Rather fight for your meat Which those locusts do eat, Now
every man's a beggar.

Ballad: The Royalist

By Alex. Brome. Written 1646.
Come pass about the bowl to me, A health to our distressed King;
Though we're in hold let cups go free, Birds in a cage may freely sing.
The ground does tipple healths afar When storms do fall, and shall not
we? A sorrow dares not show its face When we are ships, and sack's
the sea.
Pox on this grief, hang wealth, let's sing; Shall's kill ourselves for fear
of death? We'll live by th' air which songs do bring, Our sighing does
but waste our breath. Then let us not be discontent, Nor drink a glass
the less of wine; In vain they'll think their plagues are spent When once
they see we don't repine.
We do not suffer here alone, Though we are beggar'd, so's the King;
'Tis sin t' have wealth when he has none, Tush! poverty's a royal thing!
When we are larded well with drink, Our head shall turn as round as
theirs, Our feet shall rise, our bodies sink Clean down the wind like
Cavaliers.
Fill this unnatural quart with sack, Nature all vacuums doth decline;
Ourselves will be a zodiac, And every mouth shall be a sign. Methinks
the travels of the glass Are circular, like Plato's year; Where everything
is as it was Let's tipple round: and so 'tis here.

Ballad: The New Courtier

By Alex. Brome. 1648.
Since it must be so Then so let it go, Let the giddy-brain'd times turn
round; Since we have no king let the goblet be crown'd, Our monarchy
thus will recover: While the pottles are weeping We'll drench our sad
souls In big-bellied bowls; Our sorrows in sack shall lie steeping, And
we'll drink till our eyes do run over; And prove it by reason That it can
be no treason To drink and to sing A mournival of healths to our
new-crown'd King.
Let us all stand bare; - In the presence we are, Let our noses like
bonfires shine; Instead of the conduits, let the pottles run wine, To
perfect this new coronation; And we that are loyal In drink shall be
peers, While that face that wears Pure claret, looks like the blood-royal,
And outstares the bones of the nation: In sign of obedience, Our oath of
allegiance Beer-glasses shall be, And he that tipples ten is of the

nobility.
But if in this reign The halberted train Or the constable should rebel,
And should make their turbill'd militia to swell, And against the King's
party raise arms; Then the drawers, like