From a country justice that still looks big,
From swallowing up the Italian fig,
Or learning of the Scottish jig,
Libera, etc.
From being taken in a disguise,
From believing of the printed lies,
From the Devil and from the Excise, (4)
Libera, etc.
From a broken pate with a pint pot,
For fighting for I know not what,
And from a friend as false as a Scot,
Libera, etc.
From one that speaks no sense, yet talks all that he can,
From an old woman and a Parliament man,
From an Anabaptist and a Presbyter man,
Libera, etc.
From Irish rebels and Welsh hubbub-men,
From Independents and their tub-men,
From sheriffs' bailiffs, and their club-men,
Libera, etc.
From one that cares not what he saith,
From trusting one that never payeth,
From a private preacher and a public faith,
Libera, etc.
From a vapouring horse and a Roundhead in buff,
From roaring Jack Cavee, with money little enough,
From beads and such idolatrous stuff,
Libera, etc.
From holydays, and all that's holy,
From May-poles and fiddlers, and all that's jolly
From Latin or learning, since that is folly,
Libera, etc.
And now to make an end of all,
I wish the Roundheads had a fall,
Or else were hanged in Goldsmith's Hall.
Amen.
Benedicat Dominus.
Ballad: The Old Protestant's Litany
Against all sectaries
And their defendants,
Both Presbyterians
And Independents.
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