Strange and true Newes of an Ocean of Flies dropping out of a Cloud,
upon the Towne of Bodnam in Cornwall. To the Tune of Cheevy Chase.
When Kings have lost their Reignes and Power,
Then Clouds upon us judgements showre.
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SOme talke of battailes in the aire,
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And Comets in the skies,
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But now wee'll tell a tale more rare,
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Of great and monstrous flies.
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In Cornwall this strange sight was seen,
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At Bodman Towne by name,
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Which will be justified still
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By a Lawyer of great fame.
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At mid-day, when the skie was cleare,
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A thick cloud did arise,
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Which falling downe upon the earth,
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Dissolved into flies.
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The hell-bred Cloud did look so big,
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So black and did so loure,
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It could not rest untill her Panch
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Those flies all out did poure.
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They in such mighty numbers fell
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Upon the green grasse ground,
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And did so cover all the earth,
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That nought else could be found.
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Their numbers did increase so fast,
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Almost a whole houres space,
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That they a foot and more were seen,
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To cover all that place.
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No grasse, nor flowers for the time,
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Were seen for to appeare,
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The like was not in England knowne,
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God knowes this many a yeare.
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Their bodys green, their wings were white
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As it appeares most true,
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By Letters sent from Bodnam Towne,
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By those we never knew.
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These flies as soon as they were borne
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Fell dead upon the ground;
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And to say truth, they lay so thick,
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The like was never found.
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Which made the people all to muse,
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To see that gastly sight,
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Which did continue on the ground
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All that whole day and night.
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The second Part, To the same Tune.
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SO when the Lord was pleas'd to frowne,
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And shew his powerfull hand
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He rained Frogs and Lice upon
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All the AEgyptian land.
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All which was for their sinnes so great,
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So wicked, fowle and dire,
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They did deserve the judgement just
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Of Brimstone and of fire.
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And yet they never did rebell
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Against their King and Crowne;
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Nor had such vices in their streets
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As hath our London Towne,
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Who hath maintain'd this bloudy warre
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Against a Cause so just;
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And have destroy'd their gracious Prince
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For to maintaine their lust.
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Wherefore repent you Citizens,
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And take you warning all,
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Lest that the Heavens in discontent
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In Thunder on you fall.
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In Lice and Locusts, Wormes and Frogs,
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In Raine, in Haile and Stormes,
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In Lightning Plague and Pestilence,
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In Poxes, and in Hornes.
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Now if these Plagues you will prevent,
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Which will your corne destroy,
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See that you presently repent,
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And sing Vive le Roy.
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God grant us Peace, which will not be
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Unlesse our gracious King
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Enjoy his rights and dignities,
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His Queen and everything.
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God send Sir Thomas Fairfax right,
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And send us our Areares,
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And bring the King to Towne againe,
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Sans jealousies and feares.
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