Haste a way to Brumswick, you Mum-Fogars all,
Or if you like a British Scaffold prepare for your fall.
Haste away you Round-Heads, O Stanhope be gone,
For if J[ame]s come among you by Jove youre undone.

For he ’tis alone Boys that ought to wear the Crown,
And be set on the Throne Boys, because ’tis his own.
Welcome Great Prince to the Verge of your Isle,
May you ne’re like your Royal Father be forc’d to Exile.

Welcome Great Prince, and the Queen that you bring,
All Hail Mighty Monarch and joy to our K[ing],
For ’tis an honest Briton shall defend the Throne they’l set on,
And the Mischief theyve lit on from Republican wiles.

First of all beware of a Trickster a Wigg,
And Lulibolero that damnable Jig.
Prefer your staunch Tories to Places of Trust,
That your Reign may be long, and your Government just.

So thus having ended, the Council I intended,
If you take it pray mend it, for now tis at worst.