Poem by Alexander Brome

The Independants Resolve

   Written in 1648.

COme Drawer and fill us about some wine,
Let's merrily tipple the day's our own;
We'l have our delights, let the countrey go pine,
Let the King and his Kingdom groan.
The Crown is our own, and so shall continue;
We'l Monarchy baffle quite,
We'l drink off the Kingdoms revenue,
And sacrifice all to delight.
'Tis power that brings
Us all to be Kings,
And we'l be all crown'd by our might.

2.

A fig for divinity lectures and law,
And all that to Loyalty do pretend;
While we by the sword keep the Kingdom in awe,
Our power shall never have end:
The Church and the State we'l turn into liquor,
And spend a whole Town in a day;
We'l melt all their bodkins the quicker
Into Sack▪ and drink them away.
We'l keep the demeans,
And turn Bishops and Deans,
And over the Presbyter sway.

3.

The nimble St. Patrick is sunk in his boggs,
And his Countrey-men, sadly cry O hone, O hone!
St. Andrew and's Kirk-men are lost in the foggs,
Now we are the Saints alone.
Thus on our Superiours and Equals we trample,
And Jockie our stirrup shall hold:
The City's our Mule for example,
That we may in plenty be roul'd.
Each delicate dish,
Shall but Eccho our wish
And our drink shall be cordial gold.

1. To his Mistress (LAdy you'l wonder when you see)
2. The Damosel
3. On the Queens Arrival
4. On the Kings Return
5. Plain Dealing

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