You heard of that wonder, of the lightning and thunder,
Which made the lie so much the louder:
Now list to another, that miracle's brother,
Which was done with a firkin of powder.

Oh, what a damp it struck through the camp!
But as for honest Sir Ralph,
It blew him to the Vies without beard or eyes,
But at least three heads and a half.

When out came the book, which the newsmonger took,
From the preaching lady's letter,
Where in the first place, stood the conqueror's face,
Which made it show much the better.

But now, without lying, you may paint him flying,
At Bristol they say you may find him,
Great William the Con, so fast did he run,
That he left half his name behind him.

And now came the post, save all that was lost,
But, alas! we are past deceiving
By a trick so stale, or else such a tale
Might amount to a new thanksgiving.

This made Mr. Case, with a pitiful face,
In the pulpit to fall a weeping,
Though his mouth utter'd lies, truth fell from his eyes,
Which kept the Lord Mayor from sleeping.

Now shut up shops, and spend your last drops,
For the laws, not your cause, you that loathe 'em,
Lest Essex should start, and play the second part
Of worshipful Sir John Hotham.