The Virginia Gazette

From the St. James's Chronicle.

A new SONG, supposed to have been sung by Goody North, by way of lullaby to the foundling brat, the Popish Quebec Bill.

To the tune of "O my Kitten, my Kitten, &c."

MY baby, my babs,
And O my baby, my deary,
And was its papa asham'd
To own his bantling here-e?
My dear little popish puppet
So like its dad, lord Bute-e!
O naughty papa, to drop it,
And the bishops all it mute-e!
Then up with the papists, up, up,
And down with the protestants do
Here we go backwards and forwards
And all for the good of the croy
And we will have gossips in store,
And reverend bishops to bless it
Lord Chatham shall tease it no more
But let my majority dress it;
That thou shalt have plenty of clouts,
The bishops will tear up down sleeves-e;
Then be no more, child, in the pouts;
Hush, hushy, my baby----what grieves-e?
Then up with the papists, &c.
Then down with the fam'd reformation,
Each church, each chapel, and meeting;
While I'm overseer of the nation,
I'll cherish and foster my weaning.
Then heigh for the fine wooden shoes,
And heigh for a cock-horse to ride-e,
And heigh for processions and shows,
And heigh for a Smithfield fireside-e.
Then up with the papists &c.
Then heigh for the penance and pardons,
And heigh for the faggots and fires,
And heigh for the popish churchwardens,
And heigh for the priests and the friars;
And heigh for the rare show relics,
To follow my Canada bill-e,
With all the pope's mountebank tricks;
So prithee, my baby, lie still-e.
Then up with the papists, &c.