K. William's March to Ireland:
OR,
The earnest Prayers and hearty Resolutions of the Noble General, Collonels, Captains,
and all other Officers and Soldiers, that God would bless the Arms of King William, and
conquer his Foes, and return in Triumph to his Royal Throne.
His Majesty intending in this His Royal Expedition to lye at these places following:
Wednesday at Northampton, Thursday at Litchfield, Friday at Whitchurch, Saturday
at Collonel Whitleys between Chester and High-lake.
To the Tune of Let Caesar live long. Licensed according to Order.
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THe long expectation at length now is come,
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King William the Glory of all Christendom,
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According to promise he now is sail'd o'er,
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To fight the proud French on the Irish shore:
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God grant him a Blessing to make all his own,
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And bring him in safety again to his Throne.
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Brave noble Commanders both valiant and bold,
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Whose Courage and Conduct was never controul'd,
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Are now full resolved to tend on his Train,
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And make no great question, but soon to regain
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The Irish Nation, and make it his own,
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Then guard him again to the Protestant Throne.
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We know that the French they look pitiful blew,
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And so does the rest of the Catholick Crew,
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While our mighty Monarch his Army does head,
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Whose Name like a Thunderbolt strikes the Leagues dead;
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God grant him a Blessing to make all his own,
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Then guard him again to his Protestant Throne.
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Our mighty great Monarch of Fame and Renown,
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Is fully resolv'd to pull Popery down;
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And therefore in Person his Life he'll expose,
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To conquer the French and the Irish foes:
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God grant him a Blessing to make all his own,
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Then guard him with safety again to his Throne.
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With ratling Drums his great Army will March,
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And every County in brief he will search,
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To find out the Rebels whereever they lurk,
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King William's resolved to finish the work;
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And when he has brought them to their Hone, ah Hone,
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We'll guard him again to his Protestant Throne.
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The French and the Tories shall taste of our Rage,
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Like true Sons of Thunder we'll sweetly engage,
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Our Guns they shall rattle and roar in the Air,
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As if Mars the great God of War he was there;
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And when that the Storms they are quite over blown,
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We'll guard our K. William again to the Throne.
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In bright shining Armour brave Boys we'll appear,
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It is not the French nor the Tories we fear,
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The Protestant Army shall carry the day,
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While flourishing Colours in Field we'll display:
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Then leaving Tyrconnel to make his sad moan,
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We'll guard our K. William again to his Throne.
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There's brave Inniskilling of Fame and Renown,
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Who fought in defence of the Protestant Crown,
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And ventur'd their Lives from the first to the last,
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It was not Tyrconnel their Glory could blast;
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At Head of the Rebels K. William they'll own,
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And likewise will guard him again to his Throne.
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While his Royal Person do's rest and remain
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In Irish Wars our Rights to maintain,
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Lets those that the Protestant Faith do profess
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Afford him your Prayers, for you can do no less
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To conquer that Kingdom, and make it his [own[
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Then bring him in safety again to the Throne.
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