Murder Out at Last, IN A Ballad on the New PLOT.  
To the Tune of, hay Boys up go We.  

I.  
NOw, now the Plot is all come out,  
That caused our Doubts and Fears,  
And all the Tribe that made the Rout,  
Both Commoners and Peers;  
The mighty Patrons of the Cause,  
'Gainst Pagan Popery,  
Who raised a Gibbet for our Foes,  
And hay Boys up go we.   

II.  
With Sanctify'd Religious Zeal  
The Brethren did agree,  
To raise our Ancient Commonweal  
On Christian Liberty:  
To undermine the Church and State,  
And blow up MONARCHY;  
But now, alas! 'tis our own Fate,  
And hay Boys up go we.   

III.  
A Holy Covenant we took,  
To Sacrifice the KING,  
And next to Him the Royal DUKE,  
A Bloody Offering;  
For which, according to the Vote,  
The Papists all should die;  
But now the Saints have changed their note,  
And hay Boys up go we.   

IV.  
Our Zealous Covenanting Saints,  
Associating Peers,  
Each Heart for fear with Patients Pants,  
To lose more than his Ears;  
Toney's dead, and Monmouth ' s fled,  
The Helm is turned a Lee,  
The Plot (the Nail) is knocked o'th' head,  
And hay then up go we.   

V.  
No longer may the Papists boast  
Their Bloody Black Designs;  
Old Rome thy Ancient Glory's lost,  
For all thy Learned Divines:  
For Royal Murders, Treasons base,  
And matchless Treachery,  
The Jesuits must now give place,  
And hay Boys up go we.   

VI  
How well did we contrive the Plot,  
And laid it at their Door,  
For which old Stafford went to Pot,  
And many Guiltless more:  
But now the Tide is come about,  
The truth of all we see;  
And when the Murder all is out,  
Then hey Boys up go we.   

VII.  
Rumsey' s Gold, and Rumbold bold,  
Conspire to kill the KING,  
And Pickering, in fatal hold,  
Must answer for the thing;  
Nelthorp, West, and all the rest,  
With Perkin may agree,  
To be o'th' Tower and Throne possessed;  
Then hay Boys up go we.   

VIII.  
Our City Riots, Country Routs,  
That to Rebellion tend,  
Our Races, and our Hunting-bouts  
In Insurrections end;  
The Rebel now is catched i'th' Snare  
He laid for MONARCHY;  
At last the Gallows claims it share,  
And hay Boys up go we.    

Printed by N. T. at the entrance into the Old-Spring-Garden, near Charing-Cross, 1683.