Part 49

From a “Collection of 180 Loyal Songs,” written since 1678. This is a parody on the Whig song, “Young Jemmy is a lad that’s royally descended,” written in celebration of the Duke of Monmouth. Old Jemmy is the Duke of York, afterwards James II.

To the tune of “Young Jemmy.”

OLD Jemmy is a lad Right lawfully descended; No bastard born nor bred, Nor for a Whig suspended; The true and lawful heir to th’ crown By right of birth and laws, And bravely will maintain his own In spight of all his foes.

Old Jemmy is the top And chief among the princes; No Mobile gay fop, With Birmingham pretences; A heart and soul so wondrous great, And such a conquering eye, That every loyal lad fears not In Jemmy’s cause to die.

Old Jemmy is a prince Of noble resolutions, Whose powerful influence Can order our confusions; But oh! he fights with such a grace No force can him withstand, No god of war but must give place When Jemmy leads the van.

To Jemmy every swain Does pay due veneration, And Scotland does maintain His title to the nation; The pride of all the court he stands, The patron of his cause, The joy and hope of all his friends, And terror of his foes.

Maliciously they vote To work Old Jemmy’s ruin, And zealously promote A Bill for his undoing; Both Lords and Commons most agree To pull his Highness down, But (spight of all their policy) Old Jemmy’s heir to th’ crown.

The schismatick and saint, The Baptist and the Atheist, Swear by the Covenant, Old Jemmy is a Papist: Whilst all the holy crew did plot To pull his Highness down, Great Albany, a noble Scot Did raise unto a crown.

Great Albany, they swear, He before any other Shall be immediate heir Unto his royal brother; Who will, in spight of all his foes, His lawful rights maintain, And all the fops that interpose Old Jemmy’s York again.

The Whigs and zealots plot To banish him the nation, But the renowned Scot Hath wrought his restoration: With high respects they treat his Grace, His royal cause maintain; Brave Albany (to Scotland’s praise) Is mighty York again.

Against his envious fates The Kirk hath taught a lesson, A blessing on the States, To settle the succession; They real were, both knight and lord, And will his right maintain, By royal Parliament restored, Old Jemmy’s come again.

And now he’s come again, In spight of all Pretenders; Great Albany shall reign, Amongst the Faith’s defenders. Let Whig and Birmingham repine, They show their teeth in vain, The glory of the British line, Old Jemmy’s come again.

THE CLOAK’S KNAVERY.

From “Wit and Mirth, or Pills to Purge Melancholy; being a Collection of the best merry Ballads and Songs, old and new.” London, 1714.

COME buy my new ballad, I have’t in my wallet, But ’twill not I fear please every pallate; Then mark what ensu’th, I swear by my youth That every line in my ballad is truth. A ballad of wit, a ballad of worth, ’Tis newly printed and newly come forth; ’Twas made of a cloak that fell out with a gown, That cramp’d all the kingdom and crippled the crown.

I’ll tell you in brief A story of grief, Which happen’d when Cloak was Commander-in-chief; It tore common prayers, Imprison’d lord mayors, In one day it voted down prelates and prayers; It made people perjured in point of obedience, And the Covenant did cut off the oath of allegiance. Then let us endeavour to pull the Cloak down That cramp’d all the kingdom and crippled the crown.

It was a black Cloke, In good time be it spoke, That kill’d many thousands but never struck stroke; With hatchet and rope The forlorn hope Did join with the Devil to pull down the Pope; It set all the sects in the city to work, And rather than fail ’twould have brought in the Turk. Then let us endeavour, etc.

It seized on the tower-guns, Those fierce demi-gorgons, It brought in the bag-pipes, and brought in the organs; The pulpits did smoke, The churches did choke, And all our religion was turn’d to a cloak. It brought in lay-elders could not write nor read, It set public faith up and pull’d down the creed. Then let us endeavour, etc.

This pious impostor Such fury did foster, It left us no penny nor no pater-noster; It threw to the ground The commandments down, And set up twice twenty times ten of its own; It routed the King and villains elected, To plunder all those whom they thought disaffected. Then let us endeavour, etc.

To blind people’s eyes This Cloak was so wise, It took off ship-money, but set up excise; Men brought in their plate For reasons of state, And gave it to Tom Trumpeter and his mate. In pamphlets it writ many specious epistles, To cozen poor wenches of bodkins and whistles. Then let us endeavour, etc.

In pulpits it moved, And was much approved For crying out, Fight The Lord’s battles, beloved; It bob-tayled the gown, Put Prelacy down, It trod on the mitre to reach at the crown; And into the field it an army did bring, To aim at the council but shoot at the King. Then let us endeavour, etc.

It raised up States Whose politic fates Do now keep their quarters on the city gates. To father and mother, To sister and brother, It gave a commission to kill one another. It took up men’s horses at very low rates, And plunder’d our goods to secure our estates. Then let us endeavour, etc.

This Cloak did proceed To damnable deed, It made the best mirror of majesty bleed; Tho’ Cloak did not do’t, He set it on foot, By rallying and calling his journeymen to’t. For never had come such a bloody disaster, If Cloak had not first drawn a sword at his master. Then let us endeavour, etc.

Tho’ some of them went hence By sorrowful sentence, This lofty long Cloak is not moved to repentance; But he and his men, Twenty thousand times ten, Are plotting to do their tricks over again. But let this proud Cloak to authority stoop, Or DUN will provide him a button and loop. Then let us endeavour to pull the Cloak down That basely did sever the head from the crown.

Let’s pray that the King And his Parliament In sacred and secular things may consent; So righteously firm, And religiously free, That Papists and Atheists suppressed may be. And as there’s one Deity does over-reign us, One faith and one form and one Church may contain us. Then peace, truth, and plenty our kingdom will crown, And all Popish plots and their plotters shall down.

THE TIME-SERVER, OR A MEDLEY.

From the Loyal Garland, 1686. Reprinted for the Percy Society, and edited by J. O. Halliwell.

ROOM for a gamester that plays at all he sees, Whose fickle fancy suits such times as these, One that says Amen to every factious prayer, From Hugh Peters’ pulpit to St Peter’s chair; One that doth defy the Crozier and the Crown, But yet can house with blades that carouse, Whilst pottle pots tumble down, derry down, One that can comply with surplice and with cloak, Yet for his end can independ Whilst Presbyterian broke Brittain’s yoke.