Poem by Alexander Brome

For General Monk His Entertainment at Cloath-Workers-Hall

1.

RIng Bells! and let bone-fires out-blaze the Sun!
Let ecchoes contribute their voice!
Since now a happy settlement's begun,
Let all things tell how all good men▪ rejoyce.
If these sad Lands by this,
Can but obtain the bliss
Of their desired, though abused peace;
We'l never never more
Run mad, as we have heretofore,
To buy our ruine; but all strife shall cease.

2.

The Cobler shall edifie us no more,
Nor shall in divinity set any stitches.
The women we will no more hear and adore,
That preach with their husbands for the breeches.
The Phanatical tribe,
That will not subscribe
To the orders of Church and of State,
Shall be smother'd with the zeal
Of their new common-weal,
And no man will mind what they prate.

Chorus.

We'l eat, and we'l drink, we'l dance, and we'l sing,
The Roundheads & Caveys no more shall be nam'd;
But all joyn together to make up the ring;
And rejoyce that the many-headed dragon is tam'd.
'Tis friendship and love, that can save us, and arm us;
And while we all agree, there is nothing can harm us.

1. To his Mistress (LAdy you'l wonder when you see)
2. The Leveller
3. Copernicus
4. Upon a Sign-post, set up at Skoale in Norfolk
5. To a Widow

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