The PROTESTANTS
Great Misery in IRELAND,
Relating the Inhumane Cruelties that are daily committed there
by the French and Irish Papists.
To the Tune of, London-Derry.
|
O Lord what Misery there has been
|
In Ireland, it is plainly seen;
|
Poor Protestants are beaten out,
|
Lose House and Home by the Irish Rout.
|
What wicked Murders has been done,
|
As bad as was in Forty-One;
|
When they ript up Women to the Breast,
|
That was big with Child, it is confest.
|
They Ravish Maids and Wives also,
|
Then murder'd them before they go:
|
It is a grievous thing to speak,
|
It would make a stony heart to ake.
|
By hundreds without Remorse,
|
Into Houses they did drive by force;
|
Then burn'd th[e]i[r] Houses o're their head,
|
There they lay frying till they were dead.
|
Oh! th[o]se bloody Irish Papist Crew,
|
Has no Remorse, I tell to you,
|
They're as bad agen we u[n]d[erst]and,
|
When they do get the upp[e]r-hand,
|
Then brave English Men stand fast,
|
The Lord will bless you to the last,
|
And will strengthen you both great & small,
|
To overcome these Tyrants all.
|
Your Brethren that in Ireland be,
|
Make haste to relieve them speedily;
|
Or else London-Derry may be lost,
|
Then England will be sorely Crost.
|
And then if such a thing should be,
|
They'll make a bloody Massacre;
|
They say the weakest goes to the wall,
|
But the Lord is strong he can defend us all.
|
Now the English Army is on their way,
|
Let every Man and Woman pray;
|
To bless them safe by Sea and Land,
|
That God my give them strength their foes t'withstand.
|
Now the Irish with their bloody Band,
|
Are dividing of the Protestants Land,
|
And poor creatures, they are all undone,
|
They know not which way for to run.
|
But with help of God, our Army may
|
Reward their Cruelty every way;
|
And make the Irish cry O Hone,
|
To curse the time they murder'd Englishmen.
|
It is for the Gospel we do stand,
|
Religion, Laws and our Native Land;
|
To d[e]fend us from Rome's Slavery,
|
And that Triple Crown of Popery.
|
God defend our English Nation still,
|
And deliver us from the Papists Will;
|
And send the Irish Protestants Relief,
|
To ease them of their Care and Grief.
|
Which will be done e're it be long,
|
For we hope the Lord is for us strong;
|
He will be for us great and small,
|
Then the Church of England cannot fall.
|
|
FINIS.
|
|
|
|