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master_n john_n lord_n sir_n 30,549 5 7.5891 4 true
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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
A89986 The new medley:, or, A song composed of the rairest tunes. 1680 (1680) Wing N668; ESTC R180945 1,235 1

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The New Medley Or A Song composed of the Rairest Tunes The Scots I Am a bonny Scot Sir my name is Mickle John 'T was I was in the Plot Sir when first the war begun I left the Court one thousand six hundred forty one But since the flight at Worcester fight wee are all undone I serv'd my Lord and Master when as he ligg'd at home Our cause did shrink Gods bread I think The Déel's got in his room Hee no man fears but stamps and stares Through all Christendome I have travel'd mickle ground Since I came from Worcester pound I have gang'd a gallant round Through all our neighbouring Nations And what their opinions are Vnto you I shall declare Of the Scotch and English war And their approbations Wee were beaten tag and rag Foot and leg wem and crag Heark I hear the Dutch-men brag And begin to bluster The Dutch Gods Sacrament shall Hogen Mogen States strike down their Top-sayls unto puny powers Ten hundred tun of Devil damme the fates if all their ships and goods do not prove ours Since that bloody wounds delight them tantara rara let the Trumpet sound Let Vantrump go out and fight them Eldest States should first he crown'd English Schellums fight not on Gods side But alas they have given our Flemish Boats such a broad side That wee shall bee forced to retreat Sée the French-man commeth in compleat The French Begar Mounsieur 't is much in vain For Dutchland France or Spain To cross the English Nation They are now grown so strong The Devil er 't bee long Must learn the English tongue 'T is better that we should combine And sell them Wine And learn of them to make a Lady fine Wee 'l learn of them to trip and mince To kick and wince For by the sword wee never shall convince Since every Brewer there can beat a Prince The Spaniard What are the English so quarrelsome grown That they cannot of late let their Neighbours alone And shall a great and a Catholick King Let 's Scepter be controul'd by a sword or a fling Or shall Austria endure such affronts for to bee No wee 'l tumble down their power as you shall Senior sée The Welch Taffy was once a Coddy Mighty of Wales but her Cousin O. P. was a Creature Come into her Country Cods splutter-analls her take up her Welch Hook and beat her Her eat up her Shéese her Turky and Géese her Pigge and her Capon did dye for 't Ap Robert ap Evan ap Morgan ap Stephan but Shinking and Powel did flie for 't The Irish O hone O hone poor Irish Shan must howle and cry Saint Patrick help thy Country-man or faith and troth wee dye The English still do us pursue and wee are forc'd to flee Saint Patrick help we have no Saint but thee Let 's cry no longer O hone a Cram a Crée The English A Crown a Crown make roome The English man doth come Whose valour is taller than all Christendome The Spanish French and Dutch Scots Welch and Irish grutch Wee fear not wee care not for wee can deal with such When yee did begin in a Civill war to waste Yee thought that our Tillage you pillage should bee at last And when that we could not agrée you did think to share our fall But yee finde it worse nere stir for wee shall noose yee all FINIS London Printed for Fran Grove on Snow-hill Entred according to Order