Song: To the tune of Dear Catholick Brother or, The Irish Dear Joy

To the TUNE of, Dear Catholick Brother, or, The Irish Dear-Joy

Of Quarrels, and Changes, and Changelings I sing,Of Courtiers and Cuckolds too, God save the King:Now Munster’s fat Grace lies in Somebody’s Place,And Hopeful and so forth, are turn’d out to Grass;O G_____e thou’st done wisely to make such a Pother,Between one German Whore, and the Son of another.

Now that Son of another so stubborn and rusty,Is turn’d out of Doors, and thy Favour most justly;Since he was so unwise as his Child to baptize,He may e’en thank himself if you him bastardize,For there ne’er would have been all this wrangling Work,If instead of a Christian, he had bred him a Turk.

The Youth that so long had dwelt under thy Roof,Might sure have found out by many a good Poof,That you ne’er were so mild as to be reconcil’d,If once you’re provok’d to Man, Woman, or Child.But, alas! for poor England! What Hopes can be had,From a Prince not so wife as to know his own Dad.

Were he twice more thy Son than e’er any one thought him,There are forty and forty good Reasons to out him;For her trod on the Toe of a gallant young Beau,And made it so sore that he hardly could go;And unless for this Fault due Correction he feels,Who knows but he soon may tread on thy Heels.

Of your Heels! oh, take care! Let no one abuse ‘em,For it may be you’ll soon have occasion to use ‘em;For if J _____y should land, you’d soon understand,That one Pair of Heels is worth two Pair of Hands;And then the pert Whipster will find, I suppose,Other Work for his Feet than to tread on Folk's Toes.