This text comes from Rump Songs, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
Tell me Cittz, what ye lack,
That the Knaves of the Pack,
Ye do not see forth comming,
Love ye Treason so well,
That ye neither buy nor sell,
But keep a noise with your Drumming.
What is’t that you guard,
With your double watch and ward,
Your own wares, or your wifes things,
If down come the Blades,
Then down go the Trades,
They’ll not leave a dead or a live thing.
What doth your profit say,
When shall we see the day,
That money shall be paid in,
Great Strafford he is dead,
Ye have cut off his head,
And the Bishops all are laid in.
And yet you grow poor,
As any Common whore,
That hath been long a fading;
There’s no man will buy,
Ye may leave to swear and lie,
As ye use to do in your trading.
There’s something Behind
That lies in the winde
And brings you thus to nothing,
What doth then remain?
O the Parliament must raign,
And you’ll have A King and no King.
But though their power can
From a VVoman turn a Man,
If they please so to declare him;
Yet let them take heed,
The King is King indeed,
And the Souldiers cannot spare him.
Is’t nothing ye think
24. in a Link
Kings that make his succession:
Besides for our Good,
Three Princes of the Brood,
And three Kingdoms in Possession.
And all his Vertues too
Should be something to you,
If they could ought amend you;
But ’cause Hee’s Chaste and Just,
You’d have Cruelty and Lust,
Another King Harry God send you.
But if you mean to thrive,
And keep your trades alive,
And bring to your City treasure,
Give the King his full Rate,
As well as to the State,
And let Him have London measure.