The Old Spaniel's Rebuke

Come here,

Ye insolent pups

Who with the roundhead

Grayhounds run,

I'll tell you of the Master,

And of His service,

While we were young.

He tought me to run

At his steed's heels

To the sound of the trumpets

And the crack of his guns

I followed him in cold Scotland

Fetched his sceptre in Ireland

And bared my fangs at the hounds

Who chased him out of England

And when to rule he came from France

And these bloodhounds to my golden bowl to feed

His call I did heed

And the regicides

I chased at once

So, my pups, lull and play

At the palace, bright and gay,

But heed the call,

the trumpet's sound

And never be friend,

To a roundhead greyhound!