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The Pursuivant

In cold and fright you spend the night.
Under stair and out of sight.
Church and wealth is lost.
Abandoned by the dwindling flock.
Whispered prayer behind doors locked.
His congregation meets in fear.

No communion wine to warm the night.
Sleep in hedge row cold as ice.
Turned and spurned from town.
Church and charity laud to waste.
Sealed in chambers practice faith.
Papist fool hides in fear.

Grant him shelter, bid him stay.
Turn you back to meet his fate.
Ragged flee the country roam.
When the priest comes calling.
Hunted outlaw King and crown.
Attic dwell in wretched town.
Practice mass the pious fool.
When the priest comes.
Begging at your door.

No altar or vestment.
The Penance for greed.
Ordained the wandering vagabond flees.
Cold and confined, gasping for breath.
No chance of a martyr's death.
Heretic scorned, hunted in shame.
Papist fool concealed in vain.
Fall to your knees, pray to your Lord.
Beg him now: he hears your please.

Here's no peace. Heed no Prayer.

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