A New Coppy of Verses
OF
General Schomberg's
Happy SUCCESS, since His LANDING
IN
IRELAND.
To the Tune of, Now the Fight is Over. With Allowance.
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I.
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NOw Duke Schomberg he is Landed,
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With his Forces strong and stout;
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With Gods Assistance, makes no question
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But that his Enemies he shall Rout,
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And make them all Repent full sore,
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That they from France then thither came;
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For with his Vallour he'll gain Honour,
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When with James he plays his Game.
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II.
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His Grace, of James is not Daunted,
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Tho' of late he was a King,
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But bravely towards him he Advanced,
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A Battle Bloody to begin;
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The Irish they begin to falter,
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And the French they will not stand;
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so this Country will be Reduced,
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And himself the cheif Command.
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III.
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Alas poor James what will betide thee,
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Whether will, or can you fly,
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'T wont be long but thee'l be Taken,
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Unto France you cannot hye,
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Because the Country is Surrounded,
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That no way you can get out;
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Thy Polisy has thee Confounded,
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'Tis hye time to look about.
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IV.
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When you in England , James , was Seated
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On thy Throne, and was a King,
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With Jesuits you then Consulted,
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Sorrow on these Lands to bring;
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But by your Plotting, and Contriving,
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You have lost now Nations Three;
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And by your False and Wicked Living,
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How you Prosper now you see.
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V.
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If that you were but True and Honest,
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Then your Country wou'd you have Lovd
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And never wou'd have suffer'd you,
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From your Throne, for to have mov'd,
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But with their States and Lives a venter'd,
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To maintain thee on thy Throne;
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If that you had but then Consented,
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The Popish Function to pull down.
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VI.
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Thy Popish Function , here is stinking,
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And in thy Norstrels they doth smell;
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But Father Petres he has led thee,
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in a way that goes to Hell :
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It is high time for to Repent thee,
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Of that Base and Wicked Sin,
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That you with Jesuits Contrived,
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When of late you was a King.
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VII.
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Poor Ireland , by you have suffer'd,
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And is under now great woe;
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With Sword and Fire you destroyed,
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Every place were you did goe;
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In time we hope you'll be prevented,
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In the Sport you took Delight,
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Now Schomberg and his Men are Landed,
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You and your Army they do Fright.
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VIII.
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They are all Stout, and Couragious,
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And willing are now all to Dye,
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Before they'll yield, or likewise Surrender,
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Unto the Pope their Enemy:
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They'll Cleave the Sculls and Hearts of many,
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Before that they will loose the day;
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They'll make their Foes down on their Knees,
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And for their Lives unto them pray.
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