Murder out at last.
IN A
Ballad on the New PLOT.
To the Tune of, Hey Boys up go We.
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1.
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Now, now the Plot is all come out,
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That caus'd our Doubts and Fears,
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And all the Tribe that made the Rout,
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Both Commoners and Peers;
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The mighty Patrons of the Cause,
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Pagan Popery,
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Who rais'd a Gibbet for our Foes,
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And hey Boys up go we.
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2.
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With Sanctify'd Religious Zeal
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The Brethren did agree,
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To raise our Ancient Commonweal
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On Christian Liberty:
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To undermine the Church and State,
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And blow up Monarchy;
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But now alas! 'tis our own Fate,
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And hey Boys up go we.
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3.
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A Holy Covenant we took,
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To Sacrifice the King,
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And next to him the Royal Duke,
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A Bloody Offering;
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For which, according to the Vote,
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The Papists all shou'd dye;
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But now the Saints have chang'd their note,
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And hey Boys up go we.
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4.
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Our Zealous Covenanting Saints,
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Associating Peers,
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Each Heart for fear with Patients Pants,
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To lose more than his Ears;
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Toney's dead, and Monmouth's fled,
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The Helm is turn'd a Lee,
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The Plot (the Nail) is knock'd o' th' head,
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And hey then up go we.
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5.
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No longer may the Papists boast
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Their Bloody Black Designs;
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Old Rome thy Ancient Glory's lost,
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For all thy Learned Divines:
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For Royal Murders, Treasons base,
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And matchless Treachery,
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The Jesuits must now give place,
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And hey Boys up go we.
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6.
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How well did we contrive the Plot,
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And laid it at their Door,
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For which old Stafford went to Pot,
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And many Guiltless more?
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But now the Tide is come about,
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The truth of all we see;
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And when the Murder all is out,
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Then hey Boys up go we.
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7.
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Rumseys Gold, and Rumbold bold,
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Conspire to kill the KING,
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And Pickering, in fatal hold,
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Must answer for the thing;
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Nelthorp, West, and all the rest,
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With Perkin may agree,
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To be o' th' Tower and Throne possest;
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Then hey Boyes up go we.
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8.
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Our City Ryots, Countrey Routs,
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That to Rebellion tend,
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Our Races, and our Hunting-bouts
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In Insurrections end;
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The Rebel now is catch'd i' th' Snare
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He lay'd for Monarchy;
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At last the Gallows claims its share,
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And hey Boys up go we.
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