God Preserve KING William
from all his ENEMIES.
The Villanous PLOT:
Being a Contrivance of several Villanous Papists
To Kill King WILLIAM.
To the Tune of, Liggan Water, etc.
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WHat means this grumbletonian Crew!
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Oh! what is it they fain would do?
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Sure mischief on themselves they bring,
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Who Plo[t]s against our gracious King.
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[What is it] more these Men would have,
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[Then what] there is a Prince most brave,
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[Who for] his Nation thinks it good,
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[To ventu]re still his dearest Blood?
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[To Fla]nder's [ye]arly he does go,
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[To fig]ht brave England[']s greatest Foe,
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And yet the Jacobites, they say,
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Are plotting Mischief e'ry day.
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For Knights and Majors, Captains too,
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And others of his hellish Crew,
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Who all did Plot up[o]n one day,
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To take the King's dear Life away.
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Forty or fifty were the Gang,
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I[n] time at Tybourn they may hang,
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And then their Quarters separate,
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For to be set upon each Gate,
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For wickedly thus to combine
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In this same hellish base design,
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That is [t]o give the fatal Blow,
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When the King should to his Chappel go.
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But thanks to Heaven, which o're rules
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These Jacobites and plotting Fools,
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And put it in the Heart of one,
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For to discover the whole Gang.
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Who did a Letter send away,
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For to pr[e]vent this bloody Day,
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Which notice gave of e'ry thing,
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And why they were to Kill the King.
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Oh! Traytors, Traytors, full of Blood,
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You [n]e'r can act for England's Good,
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Who strives for to destroy our King,
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And bring a foolish Papist in.
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Besides the bloody French must come,
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Oh! where are we then e'ry one?
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For Father, Mother, Son and Wench,
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Must all be Slaves unto the French.
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Our Liberty, Religion, and
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All that's dear unto this Land,
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Must by a Papist Power be
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Inslaved then in Misery.
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Bu[t] Heaven, who does Power give,
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Does still preserve our King alive,
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Inspite of Plotters wicked hand,
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Who would destroy our King and Land.
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As by this wicked bloody Plot
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Of Papists, who together got,
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Some Irish, French and English, who
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Would hands in Royal Blood imbrew.
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At Richmond they design'd to act
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This villanous and bloody Fact;
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But by a Letter that was sent,
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It did (thank God) the same prevent.
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Another time they had pit[c]'d,
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When the King was a Hunting gone,
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Two or three hundred had agreed
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To make our Royal King to bleed.
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But now comes all their discontent,
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For sev'ral are to Newgate sent,
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And must remain in Goal each one
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Till try'd, then Tybourn is thir doom.
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