The Downfall Of Charing-Cross Poem by Anonymous British

Undone, undone the lawyers are,
They wander about the towne,
Nor can find the way to Westminster,
Now Charing-cross is downe;
At the end of the Strand they make a stand,
Swearing they are at a loss,
And chaffing say that's not the way,
They must go by Charing-cross.

The Parliament to vote it down
Conceived it very fitting,
For fear it should fall and kill them all
In the house, as they were sitting.
They were told, god-wot, it had a plot,
Which made them so hard-hearted
To give command it should not stand,
But be taken down and carted.

Men talk of plots, this might have been worse
For anything I know,
Than that Tomkins and Chaloner
Were hang'd for long agoe,
Our Parliament did that prevent,
And wisely them defended,
For plots they will discover still
Before they were intended.

But neither man, woman, nor child,
Will say, I'm confident,
They ever heard it speak one word
Against he Parliament.
An informer swore, it letters bore,
Or else it had been freed.
I'll take, in troth, my Bible oath,
It could neither write nor read.

The committee said that verily
To popery it was bent;
For ought I know it might be so,
For to church it never went.
What with excise, and such device,
The kingdom doth begin
To think you'll leave them ne'er a cross,
Without doors nor within.

Methinks the common-council shou'd
Of it have taken pity,
'Cause, good old cross, it always stood
So firmly to the city.
Since crosses you so much disdain,
Faith, if I were as you,
For fear the king should rule again,
I'd pull down Tiburn too.