The Royal FUNERAL: OR, THE Mourning State and Solemnity OF THE FUNERAL OF MARY, Queen of ENGLAND, etc.  
Who was Intered at Westminster, on the Fifth of March, 1695.  
To the Tune of, Hopes Farewell, etc.  
Licenced and Entered according te Order.  

HEre I writ a sorrowful Ditty,  
for all the Protestant Nation to read,  
Which must needs be moved with Pity,  
for ev'ry Heart has just reason to bleed;  
Death's cruel Spleen, assaulted the Queen,  
When she in the height of her Glory was seen;  
Sceptre and Ball, Crown, Throne and all,  
She now has forsaken, behold her Funeral!   

Lords, and likewise Ladies of Honour,  
while Queen Mary she was lying in State,  
In their Mourning they waited upon Her,  
their Grief and Sorrow no Tongue can relate;  
Death's cruel Dart, hath pierced the Heart  
Of our Royal Queen Mary, and forced her to part,  
With Crown and Ball, Throne, Sceptre and all,  
Let Protestant Subjects behold her Funeral!   

On the Twentieth Eight of December  
our most Religious Queen Mary she died,  
At which time the Church a dear Member  
did lose, for which we in Grief do abide;  
The Courtly Train, do weep and complain,  
For to see the last Per●od of her Royal Reign;  
Sceptre and Ball Throne Crown and all,  
Queen Mary hath left, for behold her Funeral!   

Mourn ye Sons and Daughters of Zion,  
O mourn in Sable and sorrowful Tears,  
Good Queen Mary whom we did rely on,  
is snatched from us in the prime of her Years:  
Many a Day in State she lay,  
From whence they conveyed her to Lodgins of Clay:  
Septer and Ball, Throne, Crown and all,  
Queen Mary hath left, for behold her Funeral!   

Now that Sweet and Heavenly Creature  
lies close confined in a Coffing of Lead;  
Death's sharp Arrows severely did treat her,  
without respect to a Queen's Crowned Head;  
Both High and Low must suffer the Blow,  
For Death in full power no Pity will show:  
Septer and Ball, Throne Crown and all,  
Queen Mary hath left, for behold her Funeral!   

This Good Queen her Mercies extended  
to all her Subjects of ev'ry Degree,  
So that when her Days they were Ended,  
no Queen was e'er so Lamented as She;  
Both Rich and Poor, the Nation all o'er,  
Did weep, but no Sorrow her Life could restore:  
Septer and Ball, Throne Crown and all,  
Queen Mary hath left, for behold her Funeral!   

Now the Abbey is shadowed with Mourning,  
and with the darkest of Sable all round;  
See how Things are changing and turning,  
for there Queen Mary in Triumph was Crowned;  
Now in the room of pleasant Perfume,  
She lies close confined in a cold silent Tomb:  
Septer and Ball, Throne, Crown and all,  
Queen Mary hath left, for behold her Funeral!   

World thy chiefest Honours are flying,  
there's nothing lasting amongst us we find;  
Crowned Heads are subject to Dying,  
they leave their Trophies of Honour behind;  
Flourish they may, yet Time will decay,  
And blast Earthly Glory, tho' never so gay:  
Septer and Ball, Throne, Crown and all,  
Queen Mary hath left, for behold her Funeral!    

London: Printed for J. Deacon, at the Angel in Guilt-spur-street, without Newgate.