And when you have her favour won, Tobacco, Tobacco, You must hold out as you begun, Tobacco, Tobacco, Or else she’ll quickly change her mind, And seek some other Friend to find, That better may content her mind In giving her Tobacco.
And if you do not do her right, Tobacco, Tobacco, She’ll take a course to burn your Pipe, Tobacco, Tobacco, And if you ask what she doth mean, She’ll say she doth’t to make it clean, Then take you heed of such a Quean For spoyling your Tobacco,
As I my self dare boldly speak, [p. 24.] Tobacco, Tobacco, Which makes my very heart to break, Tobacco, Tobacco, For she that I take for my friend, Hath my Tobacco quite consum’d, She hath spoil’d my Pipe, and there’s an end Of all my good Tobacco.
Come Drawer, some wine, Or we’ll pull down the Sign, For we are all jovial Compounders: We’ll make the house ring, With healths to the KING, And confusion light on his Confounders.
Since Goldsmiths Committee Affords us no pitty, Our sorrows in wine we will steep ’um, They force us to take Two Oaths, but we’ll make A third, that we ne’r mean to keep ’um.
And next, who e’r sees, We drink on our knees, To the King, may he thirst that repines. A fig for those traitors That look to our waters, They have nothing to do with our wines.
And next here’s a Cup To the Queen, fill it up, Were it poyson, we would make an end o’nt: May _Charles_ and She meet, And tread under feet Both Presbyter and Independent.
To the Prince, and all others, His Sisters and Brothers, As low in condition as high born, We’ll drink this, and pray, [p. 30.] That shortly they may, See all them that wrongs them at _Tyburn_.
And next here’s three bowls To all gallant souls, That for the King did, and will venter, May they flourish when those That are his, and their foes Are hang’d and ram’d down to the Center.
And next let a Glass To our undoers pass, Attended with two or three curses: May plagues sent from hell Stuff their bodies as well, As the Cavaliers Coyn doth their purses.
May the _Cannibals_ of _Pym_ Eat them up limb by limb, Or a hot Fever scorch ’um to embers, Pox keep ’um in bed Untill they are dead, And repent for the loss of their Members.
And may they be found In all to abound, Both with heaven and the countries anger, May they never want Fractions, Doubts, Fears, and Distractions, Till the Gallow-tree choaks them from danger.