The Desponding Whig

From Ned Ward’s Works, vol. iv. 1709.

When owles are strip’d of their disguise,
   And wolves of shepherd’s cloathing,
Those birds and beasts that please our eyes
   Will then beget our loathing;
When foxes tremble in their holes
   At dangers that they see,
And those we think so wise prove fools,
   Then low, boys, down go we.

If those designs abortive prove
   We’ve been so long in hatching,
And cunning knaves are forced to move
   From home for fear of catching;
The rabble soon will change their tone
   When our intrigues they see,
And cry God save the Church and Throne,
   Then low, boys, down go we.

The weaver then no more must leave
   His loom and turn a preacher,
Nor with his cant poor fools deceive
   To make himself the richer.
Our leaders soon would disappear
   If such a change should be,
Our scriblers too would stink for fear,
   Then low, boys, down go we.

No canvisars would dare to shew
   Their postures and grimaces,
Or proph’sy what they never knew,
   By dint of ugly faces.
But shove the tumbler through the town,
   And quickly banish’d be,
For none must teach without a gown,
   Then low, boys, down go we.

If such unhappy days should come,
   Our virtue, moderation,
Would surely be repaid us home
   With double compensation;
For as we never could forgive,
   I fear we then should see
That what we lent we must receive,
   Then low, boys, down go we.

Should honest brethren once discern
   Our knaveries, they’d disown us,
And bubbl’d fools more wit should learn,
   The Lord have mercy on us;
Let’s guard against that evil day,
   Least such a time should be,
And tackers should come into play,
   Then low, boys, down go we.

Tho’ hitherto we’ve play’d our parts
   Like wary cunning foxes,
And gain’d the common people’s hearts
   By broaching het’rodoxes,—
But they’re as fickle as the winds,
   With nothing long agree,
And when they change their wav’ring minds,
   Then low, boys, down go we.

Let’s preach and pray, but spit our gall
   On those that do oppose us,
And cant of grace, in spite of all
   The shame the Devil owes us:
The just, the loyal, and the wise
   With us shall Papists be,
For if the High Church once should rise,
   Then, Low Church, down go we.