Know this, my Brethren, Heaven is clear, and all the clowds are gone,
The righteous men shall flourish now, good dayes are comming on;
Come then my Brethren and be glad, and eke rejoyce with me,
Lawn sleeves and Rochets shall go down, and hey then up go we.
Wee’l break the Windows which the Whore of Babylon hath painted,
And when the Popish Saints are down, then Burrow shal be Sainted;
There’s neither Crosse nor Crucifix shall stand for men to see,
Romes trash and trumpery shall go down, and hey then up go we.
What ere the Popish hands have built, our Hammer shall undoe,
Wee’l break their Pipes, and burn their Copes, and pull down Churches too:
Wee’l exercise within the Groves, and teach beneath a Tree,
Wee’l make a Pulpit of a Cask, and hey then up go we.
Wee’l down with all the Versities, where Learning is profest,
Because they practice and maintain the language of the Beast;
Wee’l drive the Doctors out of doors, and parts what ere they be;
Wee’l cry all Arts and Learning down and hey then up go we.
Wee’l down with Deans and Prebends too, and I rejoyce to tell ye
How that we will eat Pigs our fill, and Capon by the belly;
Wee’l burn the Fathers Learned Books, and Make the School-men flee;
Wee’l down with all that smells of wit, and hey then up go we.
If once the Antichristian crew be crushed and overthrown,
Wee’l teach the Nobles how to stoop, and keep the Gentry down:
Good manners have an ill report, and turns to pride we see,
Wee’l therefore cry good manners down, and hey then up go we.
The name of Lords shall be abhorr’d, for every man’s a Brother,
No reason why in Church and State one man should rule another,
But when the Change of Government shall set our fingers free,
Wee’l make the wanton Sisters stoop, and hey then up go we.
What though the King and Parliament do not accord together,
We have more cause to be content, this is our Sun-shine weather;
For if that reason should take place, and they should once agree,
Who would be in a Round-heads case? And hey then up go we.
What should we do then in this case, let’s put it to a venture,
If that we hold out seven years space, wee’l sue out our indenture.
A time may come to make us rue, and time may set us free,
Except the Gallows claim his due, and hey then up go we.
Many thanks to Lisa Pearson, a 17th Century Re-enactor in the USA, for this info.
Reputed to actually be a Cavaliers’ song (the opposite of what you might think from the lyrics), it is very satirical in nature. They’re taking the piss out of the Levellers and other such malcontents.