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My passion is as mustard strong;
I sit all sober sad,
Or like a March hạre mad.
I drink, yet can't forget ber;
I love her still the better,
If Molly were but kind;
The rest of womankind.
her o'er and o’er;
Sleek as a mouse before.
And soft as silk my skin;
But as a groat. now thin! 1, melancholy as a cat,
Am kept awake to peep;
Sound as a top can sleep.
She laughs to see me pale ;
And brisk as bottled ale,
The God of Love, at her approach,
Is busy as a bee!
Are smit, and sigh like me.
The fine men crowd about her : But soon as dead as a door-nail
Shall I be, if without her. Straight as my leg her shape appears;
O were we join’d together! My heart would be scotfree from carés,
And lighter than a feather. As fine as fivepence is her mien
No drum was ever tighter; Her glance is as the razor keen,
And not the sun is brighter. As soft as pap her kisses are :
Methinks I taste them yet ; Brown as a berry is her hair,
Her eyes as black as jet. As smooth as glass, as white as curds,
Her pretty hand invites; Sharp as a needle are her words;
Her wit like pepper bites.
Clean as a penny drest :
Round as the globe her breast.
And happy as a king: Good Lord! how all men envied mel
She lov'd like any thing.
But, false as Hell, she, like the wind,
Chang'd as her sex must do; Though seeming as the turtle kind,
And like the Gospel true. If I and Molly could agree,
Let who would take Peru! .
And richer than a Jew.
I'm dull as any post :
And warm as any toast.
You'll know me truer than a die,
And wish me better sped,
And as a herring dead.
And sigh, perhaps, and wish,
Being a new Ballad, showing how Mr. Jonathan Wild's Throat
from Ear to Ear, with a Penknife, by Mr. Blake, alias Blueskin, the bold Highwayman, as he stood at his Trial in the Old Bailey, 1725.
TO THE TUNE OT THE CUTPURSL.
E gallants of Newgate, whose fingers are nice
Attend and draw near,
Good news ye shall hear, How Jonathan's throat was cut from ear to ear, How Blueskin's sharp penknife hath set you at ease, And ev'ry man round me may rob, if he please.
When to the Old Bailey this Blueskin was led,
Then, hopeless of life,
He drew his penknife, And made a sad widow of Jonathan's wife. But forty pounds paid her, her grief shall appease, And ey'ry man round me may rob, if he please .
there are courtiers of highest renown, Who steal the king's gold, and leave hiin but a crown: Some
peers and parliament men, Who meet once a year to rob courtiers again.
Let them all take their swing,
To pillage the king, And get a blue riband instead of a string. Now Blueskin's sharp penknife hath set you at ease, And ev'ry man round me may rob, if he please.
Knaves, of old, to hide guilt by their cunning inven.
tions, Callid briberies grants, and plain robberies pensions: Physicians and lawyers (who take their degrees To be learned rogues) call’d their pilfering fees.
Since this happy day,
Now ev'ry man may Rob (as safe as in office) upon the highway. For Blueskin's sharp penknife hath set you at ease, And evry man round me may rob, if he please.
Some cheat in the Customs, some rob the Excise: But he who robs both is esteemed most wise. Churchwardens too prudent to hazard the halter, As yet only venture to steal from the altar.
But now, to get gold,
They may be more bold, And rob on the highway since Jonathan's cold: For Blueskin's sharp penknife hath set you at ease, And ev'ry man round me may rob, if be please.