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