And now whatever might betide
A happy man was I,
In any strait I knew to whom
I freely might apply.
A strait soon came: my friend I try'd;
He heard, and spurn'd my moan;
I hied me home, and tuned my pipe
To John o' Badenyon.


IV.

Methought I should be wiser next,
And would a _patriot_ turn,
Began to doat on Johnny Wilkes
And cry up Parson Horne.[1]
Their manly spirit I admired,
And praised their noble zeal,
Who had with flaming tongue and pen
Maintain'd the public weal;
But e'er a month or two had pass'd,
I found myself betray'd,
'Twas _self_ and _party_, after all,
For a' the stir they made;
At last I saw the factious knaves
Insult the very throne,
I cursed them a', and tuned my pipe
To John o' Badenyon.