The Court Lunaticks, or Reflections on the late Changes. The Words made to the Tune of a pretty Country Dance, call'd Hedg Lane.
SNUG of late, the Barons sate
With Northern Brittons bonny,
Commons they, were every Day,
On Ways and Means for Mony:
But there's now, the Devil to do,
The high built Tory rory;
Plots maintain 'gainst Moderate Men,
But have faln down a story:
Greg's harangu'd, but yet unhang'd,
They want some more discovery;
Hly's out, there's none can doubt,
And Stns past recovery:
Mhams Plot is piping hot,
And all to change the Ministry;
They only mean, t' abuse the Qn,
With Loyal sham pretences,
Fie, Tories fie, you soar so high,
Y' have all quite lost your Senses.
Who would put the General out,
That is not strangely Frantick?
Who'd defame Godolphins name,
That is not simply antick?
Who'd displace the Purse and Mace,
That value Law or Reason?
Who'd discard the Qns best Guard,
That is not fond of Treason?
Yet the Muse, can some produce,
Who 'tis believ'd are much to blame;
Some who hope, to climb the top,
And are too Great for me to name:
Who pretend, the Church to mend,
Yet only do confound the same:
