Mary's Ghost. A Pathetic Ballad.
'Twas in the middle of the night,
To sleep young William tried,
When Mary's ghost came stealing in,
And stood at his bed-side.
O William dear ! O William dear !
My rest eternal ceases;
Alas ! my everlasting peace
Is broken into pieces.
I thought the last of all my cares
Would end with my last minute;
But tho' I went to my long home,
I didn't stay long in it.
The body-snatchers they have come,
And made a snatch at me;
It's very hard them kind of men
Won't let a body be !
You thought that I was buried deep,
Quite decent like and chary,
But from her grave in Mary-bone
They've come and boned your Mary.
The arm that used to take your arm
Is took to Dr. Vyse;
And both my legs are gone to walk
The hospital at Guy's.
I vow'd that you should have my hand,
But fate gives us denial;
You'll find it there, at Doctor Bell's,
In spirits and a phial.
As for my feet, the little feet
You used to call so pretty,
There's one, I know, in Bedford Row,
The t'other's in the city.
I can't tell where my head is gone,
But Doctor Carpue can:
As for my trunk, it's all pack'd up
To go by Pickford's van.
I wish'd you'd go to Mr. P.
And save me such a ride:
I don't half like the outside place,
They've took for my inside.
The cock it crows—I must be gone !
My William, we must part !
But I'll be yours in death, altho'
Sir Astley has my heart.
Don't go to weep upon my grave,
And think that there I be;
They haven't left an atom there
Of my anatomie.