As advocate for me to plead. He turned to apostacy. And spent his time in blasphemy; He pled that persons might go free For murder and for sorcery; But brought them in guilty of treason, Who were religious out of season, By keeping Presbytery in fame Which king and council did disclaim: Who of their conscience were so tender Religion they would not surrender To please his Majesty and court, And turn as changes came about: To scripture they so firmly stood, On them I did spue out a flood Of mischief and calamity, M’Kenzie acted well for me: Scripture religion at that time, He made it such a heinous crime, That for it nought could satisfy, But guilty persons they must die. He many a saint pursu’d to death, He feared neither hell nor wrath. His conscience was so cauteriz’d, He refus’d nothing that I pleas’d; For which he’s had my kindness still, Since he his labour did fulfil. Rothes like a sow in mire, Who of his whoredom did not tire, But wallow’d in adultery, In cursing and profanity, And did allot the Sabbath-day, To spend it in his game and play; Perjur’d himself in Mitchell’s case, To bring that rebel to disgrace, He did contrive that engine, That did make Hackston dree great pain, To rip his breast at my desire, And burn his heart quick in the fire, Mangled his hands and took them off, That they might be the people’s scoff, And afterwards struck off his pow, And set it on the Netherbow; And cut his body all asunder, And plac’d it for a world’s wonder. Thus he shook off humanity, For the respect he had to me. At last in horror he did die, And went to Tophet dolefully. Monmouth did me a noble turn, When he to Bothwell-bridge did come, With armed force, with power and might, He slew and put the Whigs to flight. Although it was the Sabbath-day, He would not grant them a delay, But instantly did hash them down, And took them captives to the town. They prisoners were in the Grey friar, Until a false oath they did swear; Or in the dungeons were shut close, Where they their lives were like to lose, Some got the gallows some the sea, Some hang’d, some drown’d--that pleased me; Earishal who serv’d me many a year, And for my interest did appear; He serv’d his ’prentiship below, Then to the mountains he did go, The Cameronians to defeat, People whom I do greatly hate, At Aird’s moss he surpris’d that crew, Cameron their champion he slew, And desperately cut off his head, Also his hands and made him bleed. Then in great triumph he did go, To Edinburgh with a great shew, Much boasting that he had supprest