Foul plague the whole infected.
Chorus: For some succeed, etc.
Now old and young her shop forsook,
Insolvent was her plight, sir,
When Habeas Corpus catch-pole took
Her body off by night, sir,
From Banco regis civil law,
To liquidate her debt, sir,
Between the sheets this old bawd saw
Of London's fam'd Gazette, sir.
Chorus: For some succeed, etc.
To give each creditor his due,
Three men, the Lord's anointed,
Jack Wilkes, Lord Sandwich and Old Q
Were assignees appointed;
But luckless bawd! the after day
Her stock on fire they found, sir;
So 'twas agreed she could not pay
A condom in the pound, sir.
Chorus: For some succeed, etc.
The skin (her own) this bawd had left,
Each assignee did handle;
'Twas found of all its fur bereft,
By singeing flame of candle;
Same butter'd buns concealed within,
Old Q's keen eye beset, sir;
So Wilkes defin'd this coney skin
A fund for floating debt, sir.
Chorus: For some succeed, etc.
By headlong lust her claimants led,
They seized her mortal treasure;
The furious coney skin was spread,
A dividend past measure.
Now all came in, not one stood out;
The bawd was set at large, sir;
Her coney skin (of worth, no doubt),
Did every man discharge, sir.
Chorus: For some succeed, etc.
FACETIAE.
Cease, foolish painters, Hercules to draw
With wooden club, inspiring man with awe;
A different club that here should adorn,
This god's most powerful weapon is the horn;
No mightier spear than that the champion hurls,
With which one night he fucked three score of girls!
A crowd of grave enquirers made resort,
To where the learned doctors held their court;
And asked them who had been that serpent brute,
Which tempted mother Eve to eat the fruit?
"Ye silly men," the sages did reply,