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 And ev'ry one was happy deem'd,

that gaz'd on Gilderoy.

Now I muſt fell my good beef-ſtands,

I wot they coſt me dear,

For as lang as my true love liv'd,

he fill'd them once a year:

For beef and mutton, veniſon,

of what I could deſtroy,

But now he hangs above the reſt,

my handſome Gilderoy.

I never will love man again,

my heart is now ſo ſore,

My love ſhall ſtill more ſtrong remain,

till I can love no more:

I'll ſigh and ſob till my laſt breath,

when I think on my joy,

Lamenting ſtill the tragic end,

of my love Gilderoy.

Alas! that e'er ſuch laws were made,

to hang a man for gear,

Either for ſtealing cow or ewe,

or catching horſe or mare,

Had not the laws then been ſo ſtrick,

I near had loſt my joy,

But now he lodges with Old Nick,

that hang'd my Gilderoy.