Since Bishops first began to ride
in state, so neare the Crown,
They have been aye puft up with pride,
and rode with great renown:
But GOD hath pull’d these Prelats down,
in spight of Spain and Pope;
So shall their next Ecclipse be soon
in England seen I hope.

They thought their Saddles had been sure,
when they began to sit,
They did not care for Church, nor Cure,
their Grandure was so great:
Their Curpals was so closely knit,
they would not take a tie;
Their Bridle bare so strong a bit,
great marvaile ’t was to see.

The Snaffles serv’d them, I have seen,
they rode not farre abroad:
First from a Doctor to a Deane,
they bare the Bishops rod.
They car’d not for contempt of GOD,
nor Church, nor Common-weale,
That all this Land was overlode,
while fortune turn’d their wheele.

Their Snaffles shortly they forsook,
for weaknesse to command,
And then a Thrawner-bit they took,
for to o’rthrow the Land:
They never spar’d us spurre nor wand,
which long we did indure;
They held not right the Bridle-hand,
their Saddles were not sure.

And then a Chaunter-bit they choos’d,
as Chauncellour of estate,
That none before, but one had us’d,
which broke on Striveling gate:
They did for dignitie debate,
for none durst them controule,
They would be Temporall lords of late,
which they may now condole.

Then for a French-bit long’d they fast,
which curb’d proud Curfour kinde,
Which they from Lambeth got at last,
it was the Popes propine;
And mounted them so to their mind,
in all their riding geare:
But then began they to decline,
and built up Babel here.

But now that Bit their best delight,
is broken with the rest:
And so their Horse have cast them quite,
which cannot be redrest.
The Gallowes-bit would bide them best,
if Reines they be not rotten;
The Saints of GOD whom they supprest,
this glorious day have gotten.

Since they their horse and harnesse Sold,
come buy their Bridles here,
That afterwards it may be told,
who bought their Riding-geere.
For this hath been a fatall yeare,
for Prelates in this part,
Then let these Romish Rogues retire,
and seek some other art.

Let NOVA SCOTIA keep them now,
they'r fittest for that place,
For GOD and Man, could not alow
to spare them longer space.
Their dignities brought them disgrace,
with damnable disdain;
Since Scotland rooted out that race,
let them not grow againe:

But now brave England be thou bent,
to bannish all that brood
And make your Lambeth Lad repent,
that never yet did good;
But shamefully hath sought the blood
of sakelesse Saints of GOD,
Releeve your Lincolne, better lov’d,
and set him safe abroad.

And as for Irelands odious name,
that hath indur’d so long,
Their Tyrannie shall end with shame,
albeit their state be strong;
For GOD will sure revenge their wrong,
their Villany so vile,
The heaven hath heard their sorrowing Song,
and sighing all this while.

So let the Devill goe Bishop them,
as he hath done before,
For never Man shall worship them
in any Kingdome more:
For Scotland that they crost so sore,
shall now with gladnesse sing,
And blesse him did our state restore,
that was our Gratious King.