| When the Plot I firſt invented.
|
165.
|
| I’m glad to hear the Cannons roar.
|
167.
|
| Alas what is like to become of the Plot.
|
170.
|
| Hells reſtleſs Factious agents ſtill Plot on.
|
172.
|
| Now Loyal Tories may Tryumph in Glories.
|
173.
|
| State and Ambition alas will deceive you.
|
176.
|
| Room for great Algernoon.
|
177.
|
| Joy to Great Cæſar, &c.
|
179.
|
| You London Lads rejoyce, &c.
|
179.
|
| Hark the Fatal day is come, &c.
|
181.
|
| Hail to the Prince of the Plot.
|
185.
|
| Have you heard of Forty one Sir.
|
187.
|
| My Bony dear Shony, my Crony, my Hony.
|
193.
|
| From the Tap in the Guts of the Honourable ſtump.
|
193.
|
| Defend us from all Popiſh Plots.
|
195.
|
| From Councel of 6 where Treaſon prevails.
|
196.
|
| To London Lads be ſorry.
|
198.
|
| You Loyal Lads be merry, &c.
|
200.
|
| Who would not be a Tory.
|
202.
|
| Let the Whigs repine and all combine.
|
205.
|
| Now the Antichriſtian crew, &c.
|
207.
|
| Now, now, the bad Old Cauſe is tapt.
|
209.
|
| I Hang and behead until you be dead.
|
222.
|
| Come all you Caballers and Parliament Votes.
|
213.
|
| 'Twas a foolish fancy Jemmy.
|
215.
|
| Rouse, Rouse my laily Myrmidons.
|
217.
|
| Faction and Folly alas will deceive you.
|
219.
|
| Let Canons roar from Sea to Shore.
|
217.
|
| Have you heard of a Feſtival Convent.
|
222.
|
| Ods hearty Wounds Iſe not to Plowing.
|
225.
|
| Now by my Love the greatest Oaths, &c.
|
226.
|
| O the Plot Diſcoverers.
|
227.
|
| Brown Melancholy in a Glaſs of Wine.
|
228.
|
| Make room for an honest Red-Coat.
|
232.
|
