* A New SONG of New SIMILE S.

Μ MY

Y paffion is as mustard strong;
I fit all fober fad,
Drunk as a piper all day long,

Or like a March hare mad.

Round as a hoop the bumpers flow;
I drink, yet can't forget her;
For, tho' as drunk as David's fow,
I love her ftill the better.

Pert as a pear-monger I'd be,

If Molly were but kind;
Cool as a cucumber could fee
The reft of womankind.

Like a stuck pig I gaping ftare,
And eye her o'er and o'er ;
Lean as a rake with fighs and care,
Sleek as a moufe before.

Plump as a partridge was I known,
And foft as filk my. fkin;

My cheeks as fat as butter grown;
But as a groat now thin!

I melancholy as a cat

Am kept awake to weep;

But fhe, infenfible of that,
Sound as a top can fleep.

Hard is her heart as flint or fstone;
She laughs to see me pale,

25

And

And merry as a grig is grown,

And brifk as bottled ale.

The god of love at her approach
Is bufy as a bee !

Hearts found as any
bell or roach
Are smit, and sigh like me.

Ah me! as thick as hops or hail,

30

The fine men croud about her: But foon as dead as a door-nail

Shall I be, if without her.

Strait as my leg her fhape appears;

O were we join'd together!

My heart would be scot-free from cares,
And lighter than a feather.

As fine as five-pence is her mien ;

No drum was ever tighter; Her glance is as the razor keen,

And not the fun is brighter.

As foft as pap her kiffes are;
Methinks I tafte them yet;
Brown as a berry is her hair,
Her eyes as black as jet.

As smooth as glafs, as white as curds,
Her pretty hand invites:

Sharp as a needle are her words;

Her wit like pepper bites.

Brifk as a body-loufe fhe trips,
Clean as a penny drest;
VOL. VIII.

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40

45

50

P

Sweet

Sweet as a rofe her breath and lips,

55

Round as the globe her breast.

Full as an egg was I with glee,

And happy as a king :

Good Lord! how all men envy'd me!
She lov'd like any thing.

бо

But falfe as hell, fhe, like the wind,

*NEWGATE's GARLAND:

Being a New Ballad, fhewing how Mr. Jonathan Wild's throat was cut from ear to ear with a penknife by Mr. Blake, alias Blueskin, the bold Highwayman, as he ftood at his trial in the Old Bailey, 1725.

YE

To the tune of the Cut-purse.

I.

"E gallants of Newgate, whofe fingers are nice In diving in pockets, or cogging of dice; Ye sharpers fo rich, who can buy off the noofe e; Ye honefter poor rogues, who die in shoes, Attend and draw near,

Good news ye shall bear,

your

5

How Jonathan's throat was cut from ear to ear, How Bluefkin's fharp penknife hath fet you at ease, And ev'ry man round me may rob, if he please.

II.

When to the Old Bailey this Blueskin was led, 10 He held up his hand, his indictment was read: Loud rattled his chains; near him Jonathan stood; For full forty pounds was the price of his blood. Then, hopeless of life,

He drew his penknife,

15

And made a fad widow of Jonathan's wife.
But forty pounds paid her, her grief fhall appeafe;
And ev'ry man round me may rob, if he please.

III.

Some fay there are courtiers of higheft renown, Who fteal the king's gold, and leave him but a

crown:

20

Some fay there are peers, and fome parliament-men,
Who meet once a year to rob courtiers agen.
Let them all take their fwing

To pillage the king,

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And get a blue ribbon, instead of a string.
Now Bluefkin's fharp penknife hath set you at ease;
And ev'ry man round me may rob, if he please.

IV.

Knaves of old, to hide guilt by their cunning inventions,

Call'd briberies grants, and plain robberies penfions; Phyficians and lawyers (who take their degrees 30 To be learned rogues) call'd their pilfering fees. Since this happy day

Now ev'ry man may

Rob (as fafe as in office) upon the highway. For Bluefkin's fharp penknife hath fet you at cafe;

And ev'ry man round me may rob, if he please.

V.

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Some cheat in the cuftoms, fome rob the excife;
But he who robs both is esteemed moft wife.
Churchwardens, too prudent to hazard the halter,
As yet only venture to fteal from the altar.
But now to get gold,

They may be more bold,

40

And rob on the highway, fince Jonathan's cold :

For