From saints and tender consciences in buff;
From Mounson in a foam, and Haslerig in a huff;
From both men and women that think they never have enough;
And from a fool's head that looks through a chain and a duff;
From fools and knaves, etc.

From those that would divide the gen'ral and the city;
From Harry Martin's girl, that was neither sweet nor pretty;
From a faction that has neither brain nor pity:
From the mercy of a phanatique committee;
From fools and knaves, etc.

Preserve us, good Heaven, from entrusting those
That ha' much to get and little to lose;
That murther'd the father, and the son would depose
(Sure they can't be our friends that are their country's foes);
From fools and knaves, etc.

From Bradshaw's presumption, and from Hoyle's despairs;
From rotten members, blind guides, preaching aldermen, and false
may'rs;
From long knives, long ears, long parliaments, and long pray'rs;
In mercy to this nation - Deliver us and our heirs;
From fools and knaves, etc.



Ballad: The Mock Song