First Strangled .. then
Has always seemed so strange a thing,
that death should come to be;
because my counter was a sting
to their theology.
From hell they came, these satan's sons,
so said the Word so free;
and likewise He became a thorn,
and ended on a tree.
There, with us now, these fiends in black,
all coloured on the side;
latin they use, that well-worked hack,
their blasphemy to hide.
Murder is their chosen end,
they have no other tool;
but torture too they bring to blend,
on a one-legged stool.
With murder done, they are so proud,
a coin must show their pride;
it witnesses 'er so loud,
those whom we should deride.
Hr. Blair, unknowing, to them has gone,
how simple can man be;
not knowing fire and tong,
can give these fiends such glee.
How can the people soon forget,
the freedom they now own;
is based upon the blood and sweat,
and fire on some unknown.
And Latimer, his bible read,
was strangled first, then fire;
upon his murder we are led,
to freedom's life aspire.
How brave these ones to risk their blood,
for us who know no fire;
these words of mine if written would,
test my life so dire.
And so my friend, if you agree
with what is written here,
you, also would, along with me,
end upon the briar.
A blazing flame you would become,
as ashes would you end;
and to that death as you succumb,
to other sons you'd blend.
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