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ON THE
FIVE LADIES AT SOT'S-HOLE[1],
WITH THE DOCTOR[2] AT THEIR HEAD.
N. B. THE LADIES TREATED THE DOCTOR.
SENT AS FROM AN OFFICER IN THE ARMY. 1728.
FAIR ladies, number five,
Who, in your merry freaks,
With little Tom contrive
To feast on ale and steaks;
While he sits by a grinning,
To see you safe in Sot's hole,
Set up with greasy linen,
And neither mugs nor pots whole;
Alas! I never thought,
A priest would please your palate;
Besides, I'll hold a groat,
He'll put you in a ballad;
Where I shall see your faces
On paper daub'd so foul,
They'll be no more like Graces,
Than Venus like an owl.
And we shall take you rather
To be a midnight pack
Of witches met together,
With Beelzebub in black.
- ↑ An alehouse in Dublin famous for beef-steaks.
- ↑ Dr. Thomas Sheridan.
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