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And fan me while I ſleep, or dine;
No Indian Queen was half ſo fine! 85
Fortune, alas! too great to laſt!
My ſudden Grandeur quickly paſt:
My Keeper dies! I too muſt fall!
They ſhip'd me off, and ſeiz'd on all,
Landing me poor (relentleſs Heirs!) 90
With little left at Tower-Stairs.
Adrift again! what could be done,
My Hopes at ebb, my Beauty gone?
To Wapping I retir'd, and ply'd
Behind a Bar on Thames's Side, 95
And with my ſmall Remains eſſay'd
To drive a ſcanty, pedling Trade,
Rum, Brandy, Punch, a Wapping Queen,
Meaſuring out to Sailors keen.
Here ſtill; but fat wuth Eaſe, and Ale, 100
Known by Black SARAH sf the Whale,
Belov'd
