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SInce Popery of late is so much in debate,
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And great strivings have been to restore it:
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I cannot forbear openly to declare,
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That the Ballad-makers are for it.
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We'l dispute no more then, these Heretical men
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Have exposed our Books unto laughter:
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So that many do say, 'twill be the best way
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To sing for the Cause hereafter.
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O the Catholic Cause! now assist me my Muse,
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How earnestly do I desire thee!
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Neither will I pray to St. Bridget today,
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But only to thee to inspire me.
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Whence should Purity come, but from Catholic Rome?
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I wonder much at your folly?
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For St. Peter was there, and left an old Chair,
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Enough to make all the world holy.
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For this Sacred old Wood is so excellent good,
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If our Doctors may be believed:
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That whoever sits there, needs never more fear
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the danger of being deceived.
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If the Devil himself should (God bless us) get up
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Though his nature we know to be evil:
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Yet whilst he sat there, as divers will swear,
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He would be an infallible Devil.
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Now, who sits in this Seat, but our Father the Pope:
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Which is a plain demonstration:
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As clear as Noon-day, we are in the right way,
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And all others are doom'd to damnation.
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If this will not suffice, yet to open your eyes,
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Which are blinded with bad Education:
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We have Arguments plenty, and Miracles twenty,
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Enow to convince a whole Nation.
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If you give but good heed, you shall see the Host bleed,
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And if any thing can persuade ye:
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An Image shall speak, or at least it shall squeak,
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In the honour of our Lady.
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You shall see without doubt the Devil cast out,
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As of old by Erra Pater:
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He shall skip about and tear like a dancing Bear,
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When he feels the Holy Water.
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If yet doubtful you are, we have Reliques most rare,
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We can shew you the sacred Manger:
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Several loads of the Cross as good as e're was,
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To preserve your Souls from danger.
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Should I tell you of all, it would move a stone-wall,
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But I spare you a little for pity:
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That each one may prepare, and rub up his Ear,
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For the Second Part of my Ditty.
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The Second Part to the same Tune.
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NOw listen again to those things that remain,
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They are matters of weight, I assure you:
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And the first thing I say, throw your Bibles a-way,
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impossible else for to cure you.
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O that pestilent Book! never on it more look,
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I wish I could sing it out louder:
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It has done men more harm, I dare boldly affirm,
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than th'Invention of Guns and Powder.
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As for matters of Faith, believe what the Church saith,
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But for Scripture, leave that to the Learned:
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For these are edg-tools, and you Laymen are fools,
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If ye touch them y'are sure to be harmed.
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But pray what is it for, that you make all this stir?
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You must read, you must hear and be learned:
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If you'l be on our part, we will teach you an Art,
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That you need not be so much concerned.
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Be the Churches good son, and your work is half done,
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After that you may do your own pleasure:
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If your Beads you can tell, and say Ave Mary well,
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Never doubt of the heavenly treasure.
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For the Pope keeps the Keys, and can do what he please,
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And without all peradventure:
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If you cannot at the fore, yet at the back-door
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Of Indulgence you may enter.
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But first by the way, you must make a short stay
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At a place called Purgatory:
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Which the Learned us tell, in the buildings of Hell,
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Is about the middlemost Story.
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'Tis a monstrous hot place, and a mark of dis-grace,
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In the torment on't long to endure:
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None are kept there, but fools and poor pitiful souls,
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Who can no ready Money procure.
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For a handsom round sum you may quickly be gon,
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For the Church has wisely ordain'd:
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That they who build Crosses, and pay well for Masses,
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Should there not too long be detain'd.
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So that 'tis a plain case, as the Nose on ones face,
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We are in the surest condition:
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And none but poor Fools, and some niggardly Owls,
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Need fall into utter perdition.
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What aileth you then, O ye great and rich men,
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That you will not hearken to reason:
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Since as long as y'have pence y'need scruple no offence.
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Be it Murther, Adultery, Treason.
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And ye sweet-natur'd Women, who hold all things common
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My Addresses to you are most hearty:
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And to give you your due, you are to us most true,
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And we hope we shall gain the whole party.
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If you happen to fall, your Penance is small,
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And although you cannot forgo it:
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We have for you a cure, if of this you be sure,
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To confess before you go to it.
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There is one Reason yet, which I cannot omit,
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To those who affect the French Nation:
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Hereby we advance the Religion of France,
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The Religion that's only in fashion.
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If these Reasons prevail, (as how can they fail?)
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To have Popery entertain'd:
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You cannot conceive, and will hardly believe,
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What benefits hence may be gain'd.
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For the Pope shall us bless (that's no small happi-ness)
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And again we shall see restored
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The Italian Trade, which formerly made
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This Land to be so much adored.
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O the Pictures and Rings, the Beads and fine things,
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The good words as sweet as honey:
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All this and much more shall be brought to our door,
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For a little dull English Money.
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Then shall Justice and Love, and whatever can move,
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Be restored again to our Britain:
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And Learning so common, that every old Woman
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Shall say her Prayers in Latin.
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Then the Church shall bear sway, and the State shall obey,
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Which is now lookt upon as a wonder:
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And the proudest of Kings, with all temporal things,
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Shall submit and truckle under.
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And the Parliament too, who have tak'n us to do,
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And have handled us with so much terror:
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Perhaps on that score ('tis no time to say more)
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They may chance to acknowledge their error.
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If any man yet shall have so little wit,
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As still to be refractory:
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I swear by the Mass, he is a meer Ass,
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And so there's an end of a Story.
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