Had their new-born babe flung in the flames—
Thank God, we burn no longer!
The "good old times" are past, my boys,
The "good old times" are past,
When we kill'd—not kept—our aged poor,—
Burnt them as witches by the score,
In the "good times" past.
Then a child of five was burnt alive,
For making the tempest stronger;
And a dog they tried, and a corpse beside—