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MOLLY O‘RIGGE, AND TOM TREACLE.

At Cork lived Miss Molly O’Rigge,

With a nose like the snout of a pig,

Long carroty locks,

And ten pounds in the stocks,

Was the fortune of Molly O’Rigge,

What a beautiful Molly O’Rigge.

Tom Treacle lov'd Moll O’Rigge,

A pert little tea-dealing prig,

Says he, Molly my dove,

My heart is brim fell of love.

Says she, Grocer, I don’t care a fig,

What a hard hearted Molly O’Rigge.

I hate men, quoth Molly O’Rigge.

In love they’re a mere whirligig:

But Cornelius O’Whack,

Gave her heart such a smack,

That to church they both caper’d a jig,

What a false-hearted Molly O’Rigge.

Says the tea-dealer, Molly O’Rigge,

My heart is with jealousy big,