6
With that the rogue ran to the wall,
he having had his will,
And brought one child under his arm,
his deareſt blood to ſpill.
The child feeling his father there,
to him for help did call
O Father, help my Mother dear,
we ſhall be killed all.
Thea fell the Lord upon his knees,
and did the Moor intreat
To ſave the life of his poor child,
whoſe fear was then so great.
But the ſad wretch the little child,
by both the heels did take,
And daſh'd his head again the wall,
while parent's heart did quake.
But being dead, he quickly ran,
the other child to fetch,
And pluck't it from the Mother's breaſt,
like a moſt cruel wretch
Within one hand a knife he brought,
the child into the other,
And holding it over the wall
ſaid, Thus shall die the Mother;
With that he cut the throat of it,
then on the Father calls.
To ſee how he the head bad cut,
that down the brains did fall.
