Cavalier Songs and Ballads of England from 1642 to 1684 | Page 8

yeomen Of the guards, with
quart pots Shall fuddle the sots, While we make 'em both cuckolds and
freemen; And on their wives beat up alarums. Thus as each health
passes We'll triple the glasses, And hold it no sin To be loyal and drink
in defence of our King.

Ballad: Upon The Cavaliers Departing Out Of London

By Alex. Brome.
Now fare thee well, London, Thou next must be undone, 'Cause thou
hast undone us before; This cause and this tyrant Had never play'd this
high rant Were't not for thy ARGENT D'OR.
Now we must desert thee, With the lines that begirt thee, And the
red-coated saints domineer; Who with liberty fool thee, While a
monster doth rule thee, And thou feel'st what before thou didst fear.
Now justice and freedom, With the laws that did breed 'em, Are sent to
Jamaica for gold, And those that upheld 'em Have power but seldom,
For justice is barter'd and sold.
Now the Christian religion Must seek a new region, And the old saints
give way to the new; And we that are loyal Vail to those that destroy all,
When the Christian gives place to the Jew.
But this is our glory, In this wretched story Calamities fall on the best;
And those that destroy us Do better employ us, To sing till they are
supprest.

Ballad: A Mad World, My Masters

From the King's pamphlets, British Museum.
We have a King, and yet no King, For he hath lost his power; For
'gainst his will his subjects are Imprison'd in the Tower.
We had some laws (but now no laws) By which he held his crown; And
we had estates and liberties, But now they're voted down.
We had religion, but of late That's beaten down with clubs; Whilst that

profaneness authorized Is belched forth in tubs.
We were free subjects born, but now We are by force made slaves, By
some whom we did count our friends, But in the end proved knaves.
And now to such a grievous height Are our misfortunes grown, That
our estates are took away By tricks before ne'er known.
For there are agents sent abroad Most humbly for to crave Our alms;
but if they are denied, And of us nothing have,
Then by a vote EX TEMPORE We are to prison sent, Mark'd with the
name of enemy, To King and Parliament:
And during our imprisonment, Their lawless bulls do plunder A license
to their soldiers, Our houses for to plunder.
And if their hounds do chance to smell A man whose fortunes are Of
some account, whose purse is full, Which now is somewhat rare;
A MONSTER now, DELINQUENT term'd, He is declared to be, And
that his lands, as well as goods, Sequester'd ought to be.
As if our prisons were too good, He is to Yarmouth sent, By virtue of a
warrant from The King and Parliament.
Thus in our royal sovereign's name, And eke his power infused, And by
the virtue of the same, He and all his abused.
For by this means his castles now Are in the power of those Who
treach'rously, with might and main, Do strive him to depose.
Arise, therefore, brave British men, Fight for your King and State,
Against those trait'rous men that strive This realm to ruinate.
'Tis Pym, 'tis Pym and his colleagues, That did our woe engender;
Nought but their lives can end our woes, And us in safety render.

Ballad: The Man O' The Moon

Hogg, in his second series of Jacobite Relics, states that he "got this
song among some old papers belonging to Mr Orr of Alloa," and that
he never met with it elsewhere. In his first series he printed a Scottish
song beginning, -
"Then was a man came fron the moon And landed in our town, sir, And
he has sworn a solemn oath That all but knaves must down, sir."
In Martin Parker's foregoing ballad, "When the King enjoys his own
again," there is also an allusion to the man in the moon:-
"The Man in the Moon May wear out his shoon By running after

Charles his wain;"
as it would appear that the "Man in the Moon," was the title assumed
by an almanack-maker of the time of the Commonwealth, who, like
other astronomers and astrologers, predicted the King's restoration. In
this song the "Man o' the Moon" clearly signifies King Charles.
The man o' the moon for ever! The man o' the moon for ever! We'll
drink to him still In a merry cup of ale, - Here's the man o' the moon for
ever!
The man o' the moon, here's to him! How few there be that know him!
But we'll drink