There once was a man called Rabboni.
The pharisees called him a phony.
     They called him a fraud
     Even when they were awed
By miracles they said were baloney.

Of mortall sinnes whereof thou art not guilty
Slanderous tongues do falsely thee accuse
Their accusations lyke their tongues are filthy
They doe their tongues by lying so abuse
Their tongues they vse the foolish to confuse
Their forked tongues cannot sincerely pray
Forgive and forgett and hope they one day chuse
With honest tongues righte honest wordes to say
For verie sooth thogh damnable are they
So aren't we all and were it not for grace
We all to Tartarus woulde wend our way
Nor euer any sinner sie Gods face
The truth hath thee exonerated ere
The uglie lie coulde **** for truth is faire

O graunt O God that when I do descryue
Lustrous Selene, Qheene of ebon night
Readers by reading sie the Qheene aliue
Shining with lighte as beautifull as bright
God-giuen gifte of beautie is the sight
Of her who shineth like a falling starre
Maintaining still her place in heauens height
High up aboue quhere heauens orbits are
Aboue our heads so neare and yett so farre
Shineth the goddesse faire since auld lang syne
The troubadours melodious repertoire
He doth performe within her silver shine
Romance doth quick the pvlse and pull the tide
The loue of God is giu'n unto his bride

Poet and king and dæmonologist
The LORD hath said destroy'd his people are
For lacke of knowledge; what thou know'st t'exist
Of euil thinges and spirite thinges noir
The subiects shelu'd within a grosse grimoire
Thou hast made clearly knowne to edify
The bodie of the Lord on which a warre
Hath bene declair'd by th'father of the lie
Dæmoniacques deceiu'd by Sathan die
A second death quhere dying hath no end    
And euerie wicked witch wuld sooner fry
Then die the second death and then descend
A seruice thou hast done to Gods elect
Giuing them eies the Deuill to detect.

I am thy bride; my husband, Lord, thou art;
And I doe crave the nuptuall embrace
Wherein wee'l intermingle face to face
And whereby hart exchanged is for hart:
Ravish thou, Lord, thy bride; I come apart
With eagernesse, and seeke to grasp apace
The grandest prize for which I ranne the race,
Running from there whereat I first did start.
Lord, thou art one; and also thou art three;
And when thou shalt thy bride embrace, then two
Shall be one fleshe, and every rendezvous
Thereafter be betwixt but thee and thee;
For I shall be no more when all that's of
My selfe is love in love with God, who's love.

Greate is thy Sin, since Sin is never Small:
     And Monstrous Moles of Sin Call home thy Soule.
About their Mountainous Molehills they do Crawle.
     Play thou (and win) a Game of Whacke-a-Mole.
     Unto the Moles be Deadly as an asp.  
     Beware, take Care, nor Swat the pettish wasp.

The Harebrain'd Sinners Sins to him are toyes;
     Theyre Entertainments, Gambols, Games with Dice.
The Madbrain'd Sinners Sins to him are joyes
     Untill he's made to paye in full their price.
     The Crackbrain'd Sin-addicted Scarab bug
     That liveth but for Sin to Hell is Drug.

From when I wake to when I wincke,
The word of God I'le chew like meate;
I'le give Him ev'rie thought I thincke
From when I wake to when I wincke,
And eate the meate, and drincke the drincke,
And thanke my God for what I eate;
From when I wake to when I wincke
The word of God I'le chew like meate.

Quhat doe yow cal a king that's first and sixt?
Yowe cal him Gods appointed King; King James;
The King of Ireland, Scotland, and England, mixt;
The King of riuers Shannon, Tay, and Thames.
God saue the King, the faithfull King who claimes
For Christ the King the Ingliche written word
And lifts the name aboue all other names
VVho is the Lord of euery other lord.
The King of kings, the word that's als a sword
Diuiding soule from spirite as flesh from bone,
Hath made himselfe with James of one accord
And plac'd the monarch James upon his throne.
The booke of James by God is avthoriz'd
And hath no neede to euer be reviz'd.

O mother of the Saviour of the world,
     Blesséd art thou, among all women blest,
For God Himselfe within thy womb was curl'd,
     And God Himselfe did suckle at thy brest;
And He that dyed and rose and quitt the tomb
Blossom'd within thy house and there did bloom.

The firstborn fruit of Gods inerrant seede,
     Press'd like a bunch of grapes beneathe His wrath
Untill the Man of Sorrowes sore did bleede
     And suffer more than any martyr hath,
Was offer'd vpp a sacrifice for mee
By Father God and, Mother Mary, thee.

Woman, behold thy Sonne, the glorifi'd,
     Transfigur'd Kinge of Heauen; lion, lamb,
Messiah, God and man who liu'd and died
     And liues againe for aye, and is I AM;
Like Abraham, the LORD did ask thy Sonne;
Like Abraham, thou saidst, Thy will be donne.