Volume 5 — A Scotch Song made to the Irish Jigg, and Sung to the King at Whitehall.

[Listen]

LAtely as thorough the fair Edinborough, To view the fair Meadows as I was ganging; Jockey and Moggy were walking and talking, Of Love and Religion, thus closely Haranguing; Never says Moggy, come near me false Jockey, For thou art a Whig, and I mean to abhor thee; Ize be no Bride, nor will lig by thy side, For no sneaking Rebel shall lift a Leg o’er me. Jockey. Fairest and Dearest, And to my Heart nearest, To live with thy Frowns I no longer am able; I am so loving, And thou art so moving, Each Hair of thy Head ties me fast as a Cable: Thou hast that in thee, Ise sure to win me, To Jew, Turk or Atheist, so much I adore thee; Nothing I’d shun, That is under the Sun, So I have the pleasure to lift a Leg o’er thee. Moggy. Plotters and Traytors, And Associators, In every degree thou shalt swear to oppose ’em; Swimmers and Trimmers, The Nations Redeemers, And for thy Reward thou shalt sleep in my Bosom; I had a Dad, Was a Royal brave Lad, And as true as the Sun to his Monarch before me; Moggy he cry’d, The same hour that he Dy’d, Let no sneaking Rebel e’er lift a Leg o’er thee. Jockey. Adieu then ye Crew then, Of Protestant Blue Men, No Faction his Moggy from Jockey shall sever; Thou shalt at Court, My Conversion Report, I am not the first Whig by his Wife brought in favour; Ise never deal, For the dull Common Weal, To fight for true Monarchy shall be my Glory; Lull’d with thy Charms, Then I die in your Arms, When I have the Pleasure to lift a Leg o’er thee.