ROME in an Uproar;
OR,
The Popes BULLS brought to the Baiting-Stake by Old Father Petres.
To the Tune of, Packington's Pound.
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WHen England half Ruin'd, had cause to be sad,
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The Pope's bloody Bulls they began to run mad,
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Because we had given them Pasture a while,
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They ran about ranging all over the Isle;
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These merciless Beasts, their rage for to feast,
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They gor'd and had like to have Murder'd our Test:
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But just in the intrim there came in a Friend,
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Who did the poor Test from their Fury defend.
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These Bulls they were kept by that Bear in the Tower,
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And chiefly were Nourish'd by Dispensing Power:
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But sometimes to feast their devouring Jaws,
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Their Keeper would give them some scraps of the Laws;
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These Bulls have been found in other Mens Ground,
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But now we have put them in Packington's Pound;
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O never was Bulls so baited about,
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For certain, as these will be, e're they come out;
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Thus in our Nation a great many Fools,
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Endeavour'd to Fatten his Holiness Bulls;
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The Judges almost out of every Cause,
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Allow'd them a Pension of Penal Laws;
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These Bulls had such power, they'd like to devour
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Our Church and our Laws, but they now are brought lower
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Was ever such Impudent Bulls ever known,
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To toss Sacred Majesty out of the Throne.
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Their Keeper who was no less Man than a Lord,
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Were by these Mad Bulls most notoriously Gor'd:
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They had on they Heads such a Sampson-like power,
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The cast him at one clever Toss in the Tower;
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And some they are jealous that he and his Fellows,
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Will be tost from the Tower, to a Scaffold or Gallows:
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O what a sad sight would it be for to see
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So many blest Martyrs to swing on a Tree.
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We've done with the Keeper, and now for the Driver,
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Who valued Religion no more than a Stiver:
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These Bulls being Wanton, and at no Command,
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They tost their poor Driver quite out of the Land;
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This is a sad matter to loose Ob---------r,
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Who has a strange Name, but is stranger by Nature:
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'Twould be a sad thing, should he dance the long Jigg,
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For making Division 'twixt Tory and Whigg.
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These Bulls were so Wanton and Masterless grown,
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They broke into Pastures that lay nigh the Throne;
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They Farted themselves, and they ranged about,
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And undid the Owner before they come out:
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He was forc'd out of hand, to leave all his Land,
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Such damn'd Popish Bulls deserve all to be Hang'd;
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More Mischief they did which must not be exprest,
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I'le leave you alone to imagine the rest.
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But now these sad Beasts for the Mischief they'd done,
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Will be to the Slaughter brought every one;
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And if that they were but well order'd and drest,
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'Twould make Pope and Devil a delicate Feast;
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Their Bull nor their Bears, shall breed no more fears,
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Nor set us together again by the Ears,
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We'll out of our Land quickly drive out such Beasts,
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As popular Rogues, and disquieted Priests.
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You that are minded to purchase a Hide,
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Pray lay by your Coin while the Bulls they are try'd,
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For then at the Gallows you'll see such a heap,
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And excellent Penniworths sold very Cheap:
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Stay but while Sessions, you'll hear such Confessions,
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As Subtle as e're was the Old Declarations;
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But we shall have now a much Honester State,
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And be no more Bull'd at so simple a rate.
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