Page:Happy couple.pdf/8

 My blue fustian breeches are worn to the stitches, my legs you may see what between them: My pockets all four I'm the son of a whore if there's ever one farthing within them. &c,

I've stockings, 'tis true, but the devil a shoe, I'm oblig'd to wear boots in all weather: Be-damn'd the boot-sole, curse on the spur-roll, confounded be the upper-leather. &c.

Had ye then but seen the sad plight I was in, ye'd not seen such a poet 'mongst twenty, I have nothing that's full, but my shirt and my skull, for my pockets and belly are empty. &c.



O little or no purpose I spent many days, In ranging the Park, th' Exchange, and the plays; For ne'er in my rambles, till now, did I prove, So lucky to meet with the man I could love. Oh! how I am pleased when I think on this man, That I find must love, let me do what I can. That I find, &c.

How long I shall love him, I can no more tell, Than had I a fever, when I should be well. My passion shall kill me, before I will show it: And yet I would give all the world he did know it. But oh! how I sigh, when I think, should he woo me, I cannot deny what, I know, would undo me. I cannot deny what, &c.