I Thank You Twice
The City Courting Their Own Ruin

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Cavalier Ballad; A street ballad. From a broadside, 1647

The hierarchy is out of date,
Our monarchy was sick of late,
But now 'tis grown an excellent state:
Oh, God a-mercy, Parliament!

2. The teachers knew not what to say,
The 'prentices have leave to play,
The people have all forgotten to pray;
Still, God a-mercy, Parliament!

3. The Roundhead and the Cavalier
Have fought it out almost seven year,
And yet, methinks, they are never the near:
Oh, God a-mercy, Parliament!

4. The gentry are sequester'd all;
Our wives you find at Goldsmith Hall,
For there they meet with the devil and all;
Still, God a-mercy, Parliament!

5. The Parliament are grown to that height
They care not a pin what his Majesty saith;
And they pay all their debts with the public faith.
Oh, God a-mercy, Parliament!

6. Though all we have here is brought to nought,
In Ireland we have whole lordships bought,
There we shall one day be rich, 'tis thought:
Still, God a-mercy, Parliament!

7. We must forsake our father and mother,
And for the State undo our own brother
And never leave murthering one another:
Oh, God a-mercy, Parliament!

8. Now the King is caught and the devil is dead;
Fairfax must be disbanded,
Or else he may chance be Hotham-ed.
Still, God a-mercy, Parliament!

9. They have made King Charles a glorious king,
He was told, long ago, of such a thing;
Now he and his subjects have reason to sing,
Oh, God a-mercy, Parliament!

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