I have just thought that "vmen" or "umen" after "pox leber" could be simple altered "amen".
I could be even a parody of the way how simple village people pronounced it.

It would make the sentence a kind of mockery of a prayer.

"pox leber umen nutzifer"

would be
"goat liver amen lucifer"

Of course saying loud "Lucifer" is bad but if we change some letter it will pass 

I'm just wondering what Gottesleber (godsliver) is supposed to mean, it doesn't make any sense, does it? According to my research, you can't find "Gottesleber".  What you do find is “Gottesleben” (God's life).

But more importantly, the possible P's are all written with a distinct stroke (1. 2. and 3. word). The letters that could be a v/u (as in the 4. and 5. Word: possible: valtzen and vebren (waltzen = roll and verbrenn = burn) are written without such a clear stroke; they are simply very small. (8 is tz/zz /= sharp s = oladabatz /portatz, valtzen the words make all sense).

Potz Blitz and Potz Donner are still in use in Switzerland today. More than you might think.
But what if I split ‘leber’ into ‘leb er’.
Conversely, ‘er leb’ probably. He lives.
But here I am reaching the limits of the sentence structure.

Okay, I took the trouble to translate the saying on page 116 in its entirety, and I actually succeeded! Shocked?

No, just kidding. Seriously, though, I noticed a few things that might be interesting for you as inspiration.  Other things are completely overinterpreted, especially the translations of Voynichese, which are more than questionable, unless the writers tried to recreate it but couldn't decipher Voynichese either, and I just happened to guess their crude thoughts correctly.

Some other things are also questionable to more than questionable.

So it is not (!) a translation in the classical sense, but rather intended as inspiration.

It is perhaps important to note that the 8 is probably a tz, a sharp s / z / tz that reflects the pronunciation in German.

Surprisingly even to me, this all adds up to a vague translation that is something like a mocking speech directed at the headmaster/superior or similar.  (with a fair amount of Eisigese, which is so popular here ) Chiton, however, used metonymically: not the garment itself, but the wearer of the official robe

The onomatopoeic entries are also, to put it mildly, purely based on my feeling. 

So here: The completely accurate and absolutely correct translation (  ):

Master Chiton – you bloated lump. And despite the three candles you carry, you run back and forth like crazy, barely having time for an Ave Maria – nothing but ecclesiastical horror with crushing and burning. So, Count, take me (instead of him as headmaster).