From Children whose Skin’s like an Orange of Sevil;
And are bred from the Womb to all manner of Evil;
Libera nos, Domine.
From thick Bonny-clabber, a Med’cine for Witches;
From Usquebaugh, loved by all drunken Bitches;
From Vermin, which makes ’em scratch where it Itches;
Libera nos, Domine.
From getting of Children, but nothing to keep ’em;
From Corn-Fields, where idle Lubbers won’t reap ’em;
From Fleas, where People by Bushels may weep ’em;