Murther Unparaleld:
Or, an Account of the Bloudy Murther of
THOMAS THYN, Esq;
On Sunday the 12th. of February 1682.
To the Tune of Troy Town.
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(1)
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COme and assist my Trembling Pen,
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While I endeavour to explain,
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The Bloody minds of cruel Men,
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That will no wickedness refrain.
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But Bloudy Humors to fulfill,
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Innocent Blood they daily spill.
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(2)
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Now my sad story Ile begin,
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The like I think you ner did hear,
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How that the great Esquire Thin,
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Was Murtherd it doth plain appear.
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Their Bloudy minds for to fulfill,
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This Squire most horridly they kill.
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(3)
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On Sunday last this Gentleman,
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Clear of all Scandals and Reproach,
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At several places he had been,
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Accompanyd with his Grace in Coach.
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This worthy Person thought no ill,
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Whilst Villains sought his Bloud to spill.
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(4)
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And thus they passd the Streets along,
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Till seven or eight a Clock at Night,
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And then his Grace he would be gone,
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In whom so much he did delight.
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Poor soul he little thought of ill,
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While Villains sought his Bloud to spill.
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(5)
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His Grace he was no sooner gone,
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But this sad accident befell,
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By Villains he was set upon,
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Near to a place thats called Pell-mell.
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Their Hellish minds they did fulfill,
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And there his precious Bloud did spill.
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(6)
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Up to his Coach these Villains ride,
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As by his Servants it is said,
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With Weapons which they did provide,
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Whilst he poor Soul was not afraid.
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For harmless Souls do fear no ill,
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While Villains seek their Bloud to spill.
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(8)
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Meeting with him as they desird,
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Their Hellish courage then grew hot,
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Into his Coach at him they fird,
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And to him many Bullets Shot.
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And so like Villains him they killd,
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And his most precious Bloud they spilld
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(7)
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Away like Villains then they fled,
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With horror doubtless in their mind,
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This worthy Soul three quarters dead,
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Bleeding ith Coach they left behind.
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Now had the Villains got their will,
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That sought his precious Bloud to spill.
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(9)
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When these unwelcom tidings came,
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Unto the Dukes astonishd ear,
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His wondrous sorrow for the same,
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Did on a suddain plain appear.
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He strait pursud those that did spill,
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His precious Bloud that thought no ill.
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(10)
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This Person then did all the night,
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Pursue these Murtherers in vain,
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Till Sol with his resplendent light,
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Did to our fight return again.
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But could not find those that did kill,
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That harmless soul as thought no ill.
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(11)
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But Heaven did presently find out
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What with great care he could not do,
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Twas well he was the Coach gone out,
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Or he might have been murtherd too,
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For they who did this Squire kill,
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Would fear the Bloud of none to spill.
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(12)
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These Villains they were seizd at last,
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And brought before his Majesty,
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This horrid thing they then confest,
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Now Prisoners they in Newgate lie.
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And be condemned no doubt they will,
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That Squire Thyns sweet blood did spill.
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