Mary's Ghost. A Pathetic Ballad.

'Twas in the middle of the night, To sleep young William tried, When Mary's ghost came stealing in, And stood at his bed-side.

O William dear ! O William dear ! My rest eternal ceases; Alas ! my everlasting peace Is broken into pieces.

I thought the last of all my cares Would end with my last minute; But tho' I went to my long home, I didn't stay long in it.

The body-snatchers they have come, And made a snatch at me; It's very hard them kind of men Won't let a body be !

You thought that I was buried deep, Quite decent like and chary, But from her grave in Mary-bone They've come and boned your Mary.

The arm that used to take your arm Is took to Dr. Vyse; And both my legs are gone to walk The hospital at Guy's.

I vow'd that you should have my hand, But fate gives us denial; You'll find it there, at Doctor Bell's,  In spirits and a phial.

As for my feet, the little feet You used to call so pretty, There's one, I know, in Bedford Row, The t'other's in the city.

I can't tell where my head is gone, But Doctor Carpue can: As for my trunk, it's all pack'd up  To go by Pickford's van.

I wish'd you'd go to Mr. P.  And save me such a ride: I don't half like the outside place, They've took for my inside.

The cock it crows—I must be gone ! My William, we must part ! But I'll be yours in death, altho' Sir Astley has my heart.

Don't go to weep upon my grave, And think that there I be; They haven't left an atom there Of my anatomie.