%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Coat of Arms of N.T. J.F. & R.L. / An Answer to Thomson's Ballad call'd The Loyal Feast. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1682-1682 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 05/02/2012 32324

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

R7950 A True Blue Protestant will never stain / His good profession, for the hopes of gain: Then Tory shall ne're be my Love again. [with variation] Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 135901 The Coat of Arms of N.T. J.F. & R.L. / An Answer to Thomson's Ballad call'd The Loyal Feast. The Coat of Arms of N.T. J.F. & R.L. An Answer to Thomson's Ballad call'd The Loyal Feast. The Coat of Arms of N.T. J.F. & R.L. An Answer to Thomson's Ballad called The Loyal Feast. 1682-1682 A. Banks

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol Americas animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious groups royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 5/2/2012 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America entertainments politics/ government religious groups royalty Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 5/2/2012 9:27:54 AM XBallad Grant, Danielle Created XML Version of Ballad 5/2/2012 9:27:54 AM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/2/2012 9:27:54 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Lee, Jennifer J Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/2/2012 9:27:54 AM Transcriptionist Two Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/2/2012 9:27:54 AM Transcriptionist One Hernandez, Victoria Transcription of ballad manuscript 8/17/2011 Checker Percy Ross Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 5/5/2011 Bibliographer Shannon Meyer Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 5/5/2011 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Coat of Arms of <hi rend="bold">N.T. J.F.</hi> & <hi rend="bold">R.L.</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">An Answer to <hi rend="bold">Thomson</hi>s Ballad calld <hi rend="bold">The Loyal Feast.</hi></hi></seg>
A True Blue Protestant will never stain His good profession, for the hopes of gain: Most Loyal thou dost call them, and sayst true, For theyre no such dissembling Knaves as you. The Whigs from North to South, from West to East Did all contribute to a Loyal Feast, To shew their hatred to the Roman Beast. Eight Hundred Guineys were laid up in store, There would have been at least as many more, Such hatred we do bear the Roman Whore. This Feast was thrown aside, and nought but reason: Some did surmise a new Gun-Powder Treason, That coud not be supposd, for our good King, Doth hide his Parliaments beneath his wing: He will not let them meet in any place, For fear of mischief from the Roman Race. Let this be Sung to what tune Thomson pleases, but let the rest be to his own Tune, Sawny will nere be my Love again. Tory is small and of no good race, And is belovd by very few; He broaches his Shams in ery place, And that in time I hope hel rue. He sends to Yeoman, Lord and Knight, His Roguish tricks to entertain: But Toryl be hangd, if he has but his right, Then Tory shall nere be my Love again. He sends to the Devil for Plots good store, And they too oft do come to Town: His Tap doth run for the Roman Whore; The True Blue Protestants to drown. He sends to Rome, and France, and Spain, To all the Papists in the Land, That they may bring in Plots amain. And Tory shall nere be my Love again. At some great Houses in this Town, Tory did meet with a Jovial Crew, Of Traytrous Lords of high renown, Not one a Protestant True Blue. They threw in heeps of yellow boys, The damd Sham Plots for to maintain. Old Rowly their Treason now destroys, And Tory shall nere be my Love again. They all owd duty to their Prince, And Loyal Subjects should have been:
But their duty was all worn out long since, By their Plots we have too plainly seen. From Church to Chappel they did go, Their Popish guests to entertain, They sought to kill us at one blow, Now Tory sholl nere be my Love again. The Duke They Love, but not the King, Can any tell a reson why, Can any tale or tydings bring, Why they should raise the Duke so high? Theyd Crown him if they might have leave, And our good King they would have slain: These things do make the Nation grieve: And Tory shall nere be my Love again. The bloody Papists shall no more, Contrive against Great Charles his Reign; Though they have done it oft before, We will not let them dot again: Give them an inch theyle take an ell; To work his ruine theyre in pain, Their bloody actions comes from Hell, And Tory shall nere be my Love again. A True Blue Protestant will pray, That Heavn would still protect the King: And I am sure theyl all give way, For a Popish--- to take a Swing: But he that hopes Popes here shall sit, And Protestants shall all be slain: I hope his hopes will be besh--- And Tory shall nere be my Love again. Fat Capons then shall fly about, With Frigacees of Ambergreece, When we the Popish Tribe do Rout, And do enjoy our happy Peace, That Council shall not have a bit, That did our Peace so long restrain. Nor Popish Nat shall not lick the spit, No nor Tory shall nere be my Love again. Le Strange that Monckish Scribling Fopp, That has abusd the Kingdom so, Shall starve before he gets a Sop; For hes a Tory Curr we know. A Priest shall feed upon a Pope, Till all the Tory Tribe are slain, Then we shall have our Peace I hope, And Tory shall nere be my Love again.
Dublin Printed for A. Banks.