Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Harp of Renfrewshire

The blood of Saints, when they can apprehend them ;
I hope in God, he dayly shal defend them
Against their Devilish desperate intentions ;
And their invective Jesuite inventions,
And all their wicked wills, and subtile shots.
Their most abominable powder plots.
See from their fountains what sweet water springs,
To send out tongues to kill their native Kings :
Both Prince and people, to destroy they care not,
Man, wife, and child to put to death they spare not.
Mark what a vile report Queen Katherin caries,
For that mad Massacre she made at Paris :
Should any soul such sakeless slaughter smother,
So mishently committed by her Mother,
Who sent out bloody Butchers to cut down.
The whole Protestants present in the town;
Both under trust, and under cloud of night :
But I repose in Jacobs God of might,
He will undoubtedly, ere it be long,
Both judge their cause, and eke revenge their wrong.
Albeit their bones be buried in the dust,
In God omnipotent I put my trust :
(As in the sacred Fathers we do read)
The blood of Saints shal be the Churches seed.
Thoiigh ye think your profession true and pure,
Had ye a spunk of grace (Man) I am sure,
(Hearing me make so many true relations,
How Rome maintains so gross abominations)
Her devilish doctrine soon ye would despite.
And questionless, her courses quickly quite.
For Rome, we see, retains into her Treasure,
Popes, perjury, profanity, and pleasure ;
Priests, Papists, Pardons, Prelates, Priors punks,
Mass, matines, matrons mumbling with their Monks ;
Contentious Jesuits counterfeit contrition ;
That hellish hole of Spanish Inquisition ;
Earth Epicures, equivocating elfs.