The second part,
to the same tune.
[illustration]
[illustration]
NEeighbour, what Bird is this (quoth he)
That here upon my fist you see?
Tis a Mag-howlet tother reply'd,
That on your fist doth now abide;
No, tis a Round-head on my fist,
I hope I may call my Bird what I list:
To whit to who, come say what you will,
My Bird she is a Round-head still.
The man began to fret and chafe,
Whilst he with his Owle did heartily laugh,
His laughing made him almost mad,
The one was merry the other sad:
My pretty Round-head hurteth none,
Among other Round-heads my Bird is one:
To whit to who, &c.
She meddles not with State affaires,
Or sets her neighbours by the eares,
No Crosse nor May-pole makes her start,
Nor can she preach in Cup or Cart;
She seekes to pull no Organs downe,
Nor on an Image casts a frowne:
To whit to who, &c.
To be reveng'd the other sought,
He cal'd him knave and all to nought,
Before a Iustice he did him bring,
And told the Iustice every thing;
Before the Iustice they came I wis,
But all they could get of him was this,
To whit to who, come say what you will
My Bird she is Round-head still.
Sirrah quoth the Iustice hold your-tongue,
Good men methinkes you should not wrong,
Sir quoth the man, nor have I yet,
Though he thinks so for want of wit;
I have a Bird he sayes she's an Owle,
But I may call her Round-head or foole:
To whit to who, come say what you will,
My Bird she is a Round-head still,
The Iustice knew not what to say,
But friendly bid him goe his way,
Then home he went being dismist
With his Round-head upon his fist;
I wonder men so simple be,
They can be so displea'd with me:
To whit to who, &c.
There's none my Round-head vill despise,
But such as are knowne to be unwise,
Giggy-headed fooles and dolts,
Sisters and unbridled Colts;
My Round-head is a gallant Bird,
Good words to her I pray afford:
To whit to who, come say what you will,
My Bird it is a Round-head still.