Alexander Brome (Александр Бром)
The Commoners
Writtenin 1645 to the Club men. 1. COme your waies Bonny Boyes Of the Town, For now is your time or never; Shall your fears Or your cares Cast you down? Hang your wealth And your health, Get renown, We all are undone for ever. Now the King and the Crown Are tumbling down, And the Realm doth groan with disasters, And the scum of the land, Are the men that command, And our slaves are become our masters. 2. Now our lives, Children, wives And estate, Are a prey to the lust and plunder, To the rage Of our age. And the fate Of our land Is at hand, 'Tis too late To tread these Usurpers under. First down goes the Crown, Then follows the gown; Thus levell'd are we by the Roundhead, While Church and State must Feed their pride and their lust. And the Kingdom and King confounded. 3. Shall we still Suffer ill And be dumb? And let every Varlet undo us? Shall we doubt Of each Lowt, That doth come, With a voice Like the noise Of a Drum, And a sword or a Buffe-coat to us? Shall we lose our estates By plunder and rates To bedeck those proud upstarts that swagger, Rather fight for your meat, Which these Locusts do eat, Now every man's a beggar.
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