Classic Poem

On : the 7th day on the 7 month,
most Lamentablye
the men of Babylon did spoyle
the tribe of Banburye

A brother post from couentry
ryding in a blew rockett,
sayes, " Colbronde Lunsford comes, I saw,
w i th a childs arme hang in his pockett. "

Then wee called up our men of warr,
younge Viuers, Cooke & Denys,
whome our Lord Sea placed vnder
his Sonne M aster ffyenys.

When hee came neere, he sent vs word
tha t hee was coming downe,
& wold, vnles wee lett him in,
Granado all our towne

Then was our Colb ronde — fines, — & me,
in a most woefull case;
for neither he nor I did know
who this granado was.

wee had 8 gunnes called ordinance,
& foure score Musquetiers,
yett all this wold not serue to stop
those Philistime cauileeres.

Good people, the did send in men
from Dorchester & Wickam;
but wher this Gyant did them see,
good Lo rd , how he did kick han!

" You round heads, rebells, rougs, " q uo th hee,
" Ile crop & slitt eche eare,
& leaue you neither arme nor lege
much longer then yo u r heere! "

Then wee sett ope our gates full wyde;
they swarmed in like bees,
& they were all arraydd in buffe
thicker then our towne cheese.

Now god deliuer vs, we pray,
from such blood-thirstye men,
forom Leuyathan Lunsford
who eateth our children!

ffor Banburye, the tinkers crye,
you hanged vs vp by twelues;
now since Lunsford hath plundred you,
you may goe hang yo u r selues.