"There are only three remaining, St. Jude and the two Saints James, And great was then Queen Mary's hope, For the best of all good names. "Great was then Queen Mary's hope, But greater her fear, I guess, When one of the three went out, And that one was St. James the less. "They are now within less than quarter inch, The only remaining two. When there came a thief in St James, And it made a gutter too. "Up started Queen Mary, Up she sate in her bed, 'I can never call him Judas,' She clasped her hands and said. 'I never can call him Judas!' Again did she exclaim. 'Holy Mother, preserve us! It is not a Christian name.' "She opened her hands and clasped them again, And the infant in the cradle Set up a cry, a lusty cry, As loud as he was able. "'Holy Mother, preserve us!' The Queen her prayer renewed, When in came a moth at the window, And fluttered about St. Jude. "St. James had fallen in the socket, But as yet the flame is not out, And St. Jude hath singed the silly moth, That flutters so idly about. "And before the flame and the molten wax, That silly moth could kill, It hath beat out St. Jude with its wings, But St. James is burning still. "Oh, that was a joy for Queen Mary's heart, The babe is christened James, The Prince of Aragon hath got, The best of all good names. "Glory to Santiago, The mighty one in war, James he is called, and he shall be King James the Conqueror. "Now shall the Crescent wane, The Cross be set on high, In triumph upon many a mosque, Woe, woe to Mawmetry!"