An Excellent New Song ON LEWIS le Grand, OR, THE French King and the Devil.  
Tune of, The Orange.  
Printed according to Order.  

I.  
A Song I will sing  
Of a barbarous King  
Who in France for many Years Ruler has been;  
Look all the World o'er,  
Nay, Rome and its Whore,  
Did never bring forth such a Monster before   
This damned Monsieur.  

II.  
For the Protestant Crew,  
He's resolved to undo,  
As daily we find by experience too true;  
He hangs up the one,  
And a second's undone,  
A third he is fain to pack up and be gone   
From damned Monsieur.  

III.  
In this his cursed evil,  
He thinks himself civil,  
And mightily pleased in serving the Devil;  
By all that is good,  
His delight is in blood,  
And chiefly to root out the Heretic brood   
From damned Monsieur.  

IV.  
His Neighbouring Allies,  
With Wars he supplies,  
Not minding poor Children or Widows out-cries,  
He sends Sword and Fire,  
To make them retire,  
Or else they must fall to the lustful desire   
Of damned Monsieur.  

V.  
All these and much more,  
This Son of a Whore  
Has laid to his Charge, and does lie at his door,  
For which he was tried  
And Condemned beside,  
To be flung in the Fire, and there to be fried   
This damned Mounsieur.  

VI  
Now Lewis le Grand,  
In Effigy is hanged,  
We hope 'twont be long ere his person do ga●●●g  
To the Devil, whose due  
'twas to have long ago,  
So take in possession without more do   
This damned Monsieur▪  

VII.  
Then Cerberus of Hell,  
Come take to thy Cell,  
The remains of a Carcase while any part's wel●●…,  
For the Pox in his Groin  
And Fistula in time,  
Will wholly deceive you of what you design   
From damned Mounsieur.  

Devil to Lewis.  
I am sent ye to tell  
You are wanted in Hell,  
Since you your great Master has served so well,  
Then come Thee along  
To the fiery hot Thong,  
Where your Ancestors do most impatiently long   
For damned Monsieur.  

Lewis to the Devil.  
Pray Devil forbear,  
For I'm not fit ware  
To come to the paws of your Worship I swear;  
But give me some time,  
Purgatory to climb,  
There for to Flux, than I am in good time   
Your damned Monsieur.  

Devil to Lewis.  
Ay, begar Monsieur,  
You need not to fear  
Of Fluxing enough when in Hell you appear,  
For your Body is soul,  
And worse is your Soul,  
Therefore to the Devil the Poxed Body must roll   
Of damned Monsieur.   

LONDON, Printed by T. M.