.Nw.ODk5: Difference between revisions
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A song | A song | ||
Mr.______ of ______ College, Oxford, | Mr.______ of ______ College, Oxford, | ||
Who being catched in a Frolic on the 5th of Nov | Who being catched in a Frolic on the 5th of Nov. at | ||
night, had it imposed as a task to write something on | night, had it imposed as a task to write something on | ||
that day. | that day. | ||
Latest revision as of 18:49, 12 August 2017
A song Mr.______ of ______ College, Oxford, Who being catched in a Frolic on the 5th of Nov. at night, had it imposed as a task to write something on that day.
SOME twelve months ago, An hundred or so, The Pope went to visit the Devil; And as you will find, Old Nick to a friend Can behave himself wondrous civil.
Then strait quoth the Seer, What the de'el brought you here? 'Twas certain, some whimsical maggot; Come, draw to a chair, Nay, prithee, sit near, Here, sirrah, lay on t'other faggot.
You're welcome to H-ll, I hope friends are well At Paris, Madrid and at Rome: I suppose honest Pope, Since now you elope, The Conclave will hang out the broom.
Then his Holiness cry'd, All jesting aside, Give the Pope and the Devil their dues; Never fear, my old dad, But I'll make thy heart glad, For by Jove I do bring thee brave news.
There's a plot to beguile An obstinate isle, Great Britain, that Heretic Nation, who so shyly behav'd In hopes of being fav'd By the help of a d-mn'd Reformation.
When the King with his son To the Parliament's gone To consult about old musty papers, We'll give them a greeting, Shall break up their meeting, And try who can cut the best capers.
We shall never have done If we burn one by one Tis such a d-mn'd numerous race; For when one is dead, Like the fam'd hydra's head, Another starts up in his place.
Believe me, Old Nick, We'll play them a trick, A trick that shall serve for the nonce; This day before dinner, (Or else I'm a sinner) We'll burn all the rascals at once.
There's powder enough And combustible stuff In thirty and odd trusty barrels, Which shall blow all together, The Lord shall know whither, And decide at one blow all their quarrels.
But scarce was this said, When in pop'd the head Of an old Jesuitical wight, Who cry'd you're mistaken, They've all sav'd their bacon, And Jemmy still stinks with the fright.
Then Satan was struck, And cry'd, 'tis ill luck, But you for your news shall be thanked; So he call'd to the door, Six Devils or more, And they toss'd the poor dog in a blanket.