Mother Shipton Prophecy written in 1449
And now an uncouth rhyme of what shall be in future time
For in those wondrous days far off the woman shall adopt a craze
To dress like men and trousers wear, and cut off all their locks of hair,
They’ll ride astride with brazen brow, as witches do on broomsticks now
Then love shall die and marriage cease, and nations wain as babes decrease,
Then wives shall fondle cats and dogs, and men shall live much the same as hogs.
A carriage without horse shall go, disaster fill the world with woe.
In London Primrose Hill shall be its centre hold the Bishops see.
Around the world men’s thoughts will fly quick as the twinkling of an eye.
Water shall great wonders do, how strange and yet it shall come true.
Then upside down the world shall be, then gold is found at the root of tree.
Thru towering hills proud men shall ride, no horse or mule move by his side.
Beneath the water men shall walk, shall ride, shall sleep, and even talk.
And in the air men shall be seen, in white and black as well as green.
A great man then shall come and go, for prophecy declares it so.
In water iron then shall float, as easy as a wooden boat.
Gold shall be found in stream and stone, in a land as yet unknown.
Water and fire shall wonders do, and England shall admit a Jew.
The Jew that once was held in scorn shall of Christian heritage be born.
A house of glass shall come to pass in England but Alas! Alas!
A war will follow with the work, where dwells the pagan and the Turk.
The states will lock in fiercest strife, and seek to take each others life.
When North shall thus divide the South, the eagle builds in the Lion’s mouth.
Then tax and blood and cruel war shall come to every humble door.
Before the people shall be free each sprung from a different dynasty.
Three times shall lovely sunny France be led to play a bloody dance.
Then when the fiercest fight is done England and France shall be as one.
The British olive next shall twine in marriage with the German vine.
Men walk beneath and over streams, fulfilled will be our strangest dreams.
All England’s sons that plow the land shall oft be seen with book in hand.
The poor will now great wisdom knows, water wind where corn doth grow.
Great houses stand in far-flung dale, all covered over with snow and hail.
Nineteen hundred, twenty-six, they’ll build houses light of straw and sticks.
Mighty wars shall then be planned as fire and sword shall sweep the land.
Pictures alive with movement free, boats like fishes swim the sea.
When men like birds shall scour the sky, then half this world deep drenched in blood shall die.
But those who live this century thru, in fear and trembling this they’ll do.
Flee to the mountains and to the dens, to bog and forest wild fens.
For storms will rage as oceans roar, and Gabriel stands on sea and shore.
And as he blows his wondrous horn the old world shall die and new be born.
Mother Shipton Crystal Ball Photo by Sindre Strøm: https://www.pexels.com/photo/round-clear-glass-ball-895500/