The PROTESTANTS SWEET ORANGE: OR, Sour Sauce for Popery.  
To a pleasant New Tune, or Fuddle boys.  

[1]  
LEt Rome no more Jest  
At the Protestant Test,  
And swear all our Souls are confounded;  
Taking wonderful pains,  
And puzzling their Brains  
How to damn England's Church and the Roundhead.  
Now Orange drives Popery out of the town,  
For debauching our Nation he'll pluck the Whore down.   

[2]  
But now we'll take care  
Of their Catholic snare,  
And scorn both the Priest and his Wafer;  
And as for their Mass,  
'Tis a Fart of my A—,  
Common-prayers are abundantly safer.  
Now Orange, etc.   

[3]  
Let the Pope and his Bulls  
Cheat papistical culls,  
Who deluded are by Absolutions,  
Whilst we have more sense  
Than to pay Peter pence,  
Or submit to their canting delusions.  
Now Orange, etc.   

[4]  
Let Priestcraft be damned,  
And their policies shamm'd,  
ere we will believe the false story  
preached up by dull fools,  
Who impose upon Souls  
To believe there is a Purgatory.  
Now Orange drives Popery out of the town  
For debauching the Nation he'll pluck the Whore down.   

[5]  
Some said we should turn  
Or else we should burn,  
But who's such a fool to turn Roman?  
For the Pope out of fear,  
Since Orange came here,  
Is surely turned Muggletonian.  
Now Orange drives Popery out of the town.  
For debauching our Nation he'll pluck the Whore down.   

[6]  
Then woe to your Beads,  
And your multiplied Creeds,  
O ye Romans, The Devil must have ye;  
For now Oranges is come  
To challenge all Rome,  
And there's no holy Water can save ye.  
Now Orange, etc.   

[7]  
Oh now do you wish  
Old Nick had the Fish  
That on your Fast-days you have eaten;  
And the Romish sound thumps  
You have had on your Rumps,  
When you for your penance was beaten.  
Now Orange drives Popery out of the Town,  
For debauching our Nation he'll pluck the Whore down.   
FINIS   

Printed for J. Bac●.