There was, and a very great fool,

who fancy’d all Subjects were Slaves,

who endeavoured at absolute rule,

by the help of a parcel of knaves;

now, cutting of throats was his joy,

and making red rivers of blood,

a fine button his favourite toy,

tho’ his habits were not very good.

Toroddle, toroddle, toroll.

Swords, hatchets, and knives, he prepar’d,

to Slaughter his people like sheep;

Man, Woman, or child, he ne’er spared,

which makes even Savages weep:

then, like a great lubberly Calf,

on his marrow-bones down he did fall—

“I have kill’d of my people but half,

Lord? help me to murder them all!"

Toroddle &c.

So then the fool fasted and pray’d,

and ba’ad like an innocent lamb;

pursuing the while his old trade,

for his piety was but a sham;

but his measures so bloody were grown,

that some of his time-serving elves,

for their share in his crimes to atone,

did cut their own throats their own Selves.

Toroddle, &c.

The first was a Lawyer from York,

Cajol’d by his coaxing and art;

But who, rather than do dirty work,

Chose out of the world to depart;

Next Clve, and like Brdsw the bold,

Last St, with cynical grin;

Shew’d the folly of treasuring gold,

When the heart has no treasure within.

Toroddle, &c.

Now, let but the frolic go round,

take, ye Courtiers, your knives from the Shelf;

make each in his wind-pipe a wound,

’Till it come to the Blockhead himself!

but, I fear, he’ll ne’er join in the fun,

for to all men ’tis very well known,

that he’d rather, ten thousand to one,

Cut a million of throats, than his own.

Toroddle, &c.