'Tis strange your power and holiness
Can't the Irish devils dispossess,
His end is very stout:
But tho' you do so often pray,
And ev'ry month keep fasting-day,
You cannot cast them out.
Ballad: The Puritan
By John Cleveland. To the tune of "An old Courtier of the
Queen's."
With face and fashion to be known,
For one of sure election;
With eyes all white, and many a groan,
With neck aside to draw in tone,
With harp in's nose, or he is none:
See a new teacher of the town,
Oh the town, oh the town's new teacher!
With pate cut shorter than the brow,
With little ruff starch'd, you know how,
With cloak like Paul, no cape I trow,
With surplice none; but lately now
With hands to thump, no knees to bow:
See a new teacher, etc.
With coz'ning cough, and hollow cheek,
To get new gatherings every week,
With paltry change of AND to EKE,
With some small Hebrew, and no Greek,
To find out words, when stuff's to seek:
See a new teacher, etc.
With shop-board breeding and intrusion,
With some outlandish institution,
With Ursine's catechism to muse on,
With system's method for confusion,
With grounds strong laid of mere illusion:
See a new teacher, etc.
With rites indifferent all damned,
And made unlawful, if commanded;
Good works of Popery down banded,
And moral laws from him estranged,
Except the sabbath still unchanged:
See a new teacher, etc.
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