The Second Part to the same Tune; OR, An Answer to the Lady of Qualities POPISH BALLAD of the POPISH PLOT.  
Like you my Song, or like it not,  
I sing the Down-fall of the PLOT;  
The PLOTTERS Characters I show,  
The Devil by his Paw you'll know.  
God bless our KING, our CHURCH Preserve,  
Whilst TRAITORS have what they deserve.  
To the Tune of PACKINGTON'S POUND.  

1.  
SInce Hell is broke loose, and the Press set a work,  
By Jesuit, by Jew, by Christian, and Turk;  
By Fools, and by Fops, by Rascals, and Knaves,  
By Counterfeit Ladies, and by Scribbling Slaves:  
Each Mome, and each Sot,  
Now talks of the Plot,  
Some cry it is true, and some swear it is not:  
New Fire-balls in Pamphlets and Ballads are hurled,  
To cajole the People, and amuse the World.   

2.  
And among all the rest, there starts up for one,  
A Priest under Petticoats, Jesuit Joan;  
Who in a lewd Ballad, does sing a loud Lie,  
And to overthrow the Plot by fooling would try:  
And though very bold  
The Plotters she told,  
The trick is too stale, the design is too old;  
For no honest man in whom Reason doth dwell,  
But scents the Pope's breath, and the foul stink of Hell.   

3.  
The people deceived by Jesuitical Glasses,  
No longer now will be ridden like Asses;  
They won't be deceived, by their old foolish Lies,  
But the Plot, and the Plotters, see with their own Eyes:  
For it is too plain,  
For all their false Train,  
The Plot was first hatched in a Jesuitical Brain:  
And you shall without Romish Spectacles see,  
Who both the Contrivers, and Actors still be.   

4.  
A Politic Statesman that doth all confound,  
Who the Head of all true Religion does wound;  
Who was the first Rebel, that e'er did rebel,  
And who still advances all Traitors in Hell:  
The Father of Evil,  
And named Don Devil,  
A very Fanatic, though he can seem Civil,  
Of this wicked Plot first laid the close Train,  
And the Cockatrice hatched in a Jesuits Brain.   

5.  
The Politic Statesman in Council did sit,  
With Legions, to find out some Instruments fit;  
And picking and choosing, he formed a whole Rabble,  
Who stink at St. Omers like Goats in a Stable:  
Their Fortunes were low,  
The Devil did know,  
The bate of Preferment he therefore did show:  
He adopted these Tools, to give the Train fire,  
For which some received a Rope for their hire.   

6.  
The next he prepared was a proud prating Knave,  
Who long plied the Court, to Great ones a Slave;  
He fed with great Hopes, kept up a great Table,  
For Money from France, did make the Knave able:  
He went and he ran,  
Did many Trepan,  
And for the Pope's sake, a whole Nation did ban:  
He lost his Reward if he gaped for Uburn,  
For he with an Halter was Sainted at Tyburn.   

7.  
Like Rat in a Chamber another he found,  
Who had from the Fathers got many a pound;  
This Pick-lock of Law, to be the Book drudge,  
Was made, with great hopes, at last to be Judge:  
He loved Applause,  
Perverted the Laws,  
And filled with Zeal he grew stout for the Cause:  
Lest Drawing and Hanging should not make him Martyr,  
He lashed his own Back like a terrible Carter.   

8.  
The next were five bloody and murderous Fellows,  
Who tempted by Money, made haste to the Gallows;  
By whose cruel hands a brave Hero did fall,  
Sufficiently proved, though denied by them all:  
Give the Devil his due,  
The Treasurer too,  
He has Sins of his own, and needs none from you:  
The Knight being slain, fled the Men of the Church,  
And left the poor Laymen to hang in the lurch.   

9  
The next a grave Gown-man in terrible form,  
Who with a strong breath, doth blow up this Storm;  
He thunders, he tears, he rants, and he roars,  
To turn all Heretical Kings out of doors:  
He makes a great rout,  
And hunts all about,  
To turn all Religion and Sanctity out;  
Both Bishop and Presbyter he'll turn to Grass,  
To bring in his Idols, and set up the Mass.   

10.  
Thus both the Contrivers, and Actors you see,  
They are not mere shadows, but really be;  
But 'twas their ill Fortune, and our good Lot,  
Or rather Gods Mercy confounded their Plot:  
whate'er Ladies sing,  
They Murdered one King,  
And now to Confusion another would bring:  
God bless our good King, and long may he Reign,  
And Jesuits be Hanged if they Plot again.   
FINIS.