Tho' an Elder the contrary preaches;
For never my Friends,

Never, never my Friend,

Never, never my Friends, was an Age of more Vice, Then when Knaves would seem pious, and Fools would seem wise.

The Queen's Health: Or, New Gillian of Croydon. The Remarks of three Folly Lasses over a Bottle, on the present Affairs, and News.

F

Ame loudly thro' Europe passes,

And sounds of many a Wound and Bruise,

Once more then Croydon Lasses

Were met to settle the foreign News,

The same that the Healths began,

In Master Willy's late Reign,

Brown Nelly, black Foan, and Gillian of Croydon, Gillian, young Gillian, plump Gillian, bold Gillian of Croydon, fill a new Glass cry'd Gillian of Croydon, Here's to our new Mistress Nan.

What ails this mad Bavary,

Crys Nell, Old Nick's in that beaten Duke,
For playing a strange Vagary,

For which he lately had found Rebuke;
And they'll ferret him in the Ban,

Let the Bishop relieve if he can,

A Brace of false Loons, cry'd Gillian of Croydon, Gillian of Croydon, Gillian, blunt Gillian, jolly Gillian of Croydon, let 'em be damn'd, cry'd Gillian of Croydon, Fill round to our Mistress Nan.

Nell dress'd as sprunt as a Daizy,

Cry'd, what a Plague ails our King of Spain, That getting Ground he's so lazy,

And what's become of brave Prince Eugene?

Who

Who the Marshall you know did trapan,

And snapt like a Frog by a Swan;

'Twill ne'er be forgot, cry'd Gillian of Croydon,

Gillian of Croydon, Gillian, pert Gillian, merry Gillian of Croydon, take off your glass, cry'd Gillian of Croydon, A Bumper to Mistress Nan.

Dutch Hums our Health may wish too,

We sav'd their Herrings with Pain and Toyl,

For had we not cook'd their fish so,

Their Butter all had been turn'd to Oyl;

I'll pawn all the Things in my Room,

To welcome the General home,

And I my best Smocks, cry'd Gillian of Croydon, Gillian of Croydon, Gillian, blunt Gillian, frolick Gillian

Of Croydon, but the mean time, cry'd Gillian of Croydon, Put round to our Mistress Nan.

Proud Lewis, for all his Incomes,

Says Nell, now finds that his Hands are full,
The Old Queen too has got the Crincums,
And her Advices now prove but Dull :
Then hey for the Squabble in Spain,

When both the Boys meet on the Plain,

Fight Dog and fight Bear, cry'd Gillian of Croydon, Gillian of Croydon, Gillian, stout Gillian, shrew'd Gillian

Of Croydon, brim it then round, cry'd Gillian of Croydon, Long Life to our Mistress Nan.

Thus setling of foreign Matters,

They top'd till Civil Wars broke at home,

Foan lisping her Liquor scatters,

And Nelly hiccuping calls her Mome,

Then told her of Robin and John,
Till strait the Quoif tearing began ;

Y'are two drunken Jades, cry'd Gillian of Croydon,
Gillian of Croydon, Gillian, sly Gillian, bowzy Gillian of
Croydon, but to make Friends, cry'd Gillian of Croydon,
Once more to our Mistress Nan.

A New Scotch SONG. The Tune by Mr. Corbet. Within the Compass of the

f

Flute.

:8:

M

AD Loons of Albany, what is't you do?
You'll find your wrangling, and your jangling,
Playing aw the Foo;

Bread, why dee heed the Mounsieur's wily Tales?
Or plague your Noddles to bring in the Prince of Wales.
Wiser Pates than yours have laid Succession right,
And aw the bonny Highlanders for that should fight;
Unite then as one Man,

And leave what you began,

To gang to Kirk, and beg long Life for geud Queen Ann.

Well aided Portugals, our Allie true,

Our High and Mighty,
Friends to right ye,

Will send Quota's too,

Aw joyn'd in muckle Power the French pursue;
Geud Feth 'tis fit the doughty Scot should do so too.
In Cabals no more than let your Bosoms swell,
But sing with Joy, for glorious things have late befel,
Nor raise the jarring Vein,

Who shall hereafter Reign,

But gang to Kirk, and beg long Life for geud Queen Ann.

A

A New SONG.

Made in honour of the Worthy Society of Archers, meeting the 11th of January, Anno 1711. By T. D'Urfey. The Words made to a pretty Tune; She turns up her Silver hair.

F all noble Sports

OF

Us'd in Country or Court,
For our Health or our true Delight,
The Wise have confest

That an Archer's is best,

As 'tis also the noblest Sight;

He firmly does stand,

And looks like a Man,

When the Shaft strongly drawn does go:
Drink away then my Boys,

And to heighten our Joys,
Sing in praise of the brave long Bow.
Britain's Father's did chuse,

E'er damn'd Guns were in use,

With this Weapon' to end their Frays;
Fam'd Agin Court,

Shews at this Royal Sport,

How we conquer'd in Henry's Days;
The Mounsieur was mawl'd,
And the English extoll'd,

From the Thames to the Gallick Sein:
And were Guns laid aside,

And our Archers were try'd,

We are sure we could do't again.

Health that we gain to our Body and Brain,
To the World has been clearly shewn ;
Who e'er can say,

He that shoots e'ry Day,

Has the Strangury, Gout, or Stone?
He firmly does stand, &c.

A