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That the Hangman was starving
for want of a job, Sir. O the, &c.

Then our Ladies with large ruffs tied
round about the neck fast,
Would gobble up a pound of
beef stakes for the breakfast;
While a close quilt'd up colt
their nodddles just did fit, Sir,
And they truss'd up as tight as a
rabbit for the spit, Sir. the golden, &c.

Then jerkins, and doublets, and
yellow worsted hose. Sir,
With a huge pair of whiskers.
was the dress of our beaux, Sir:
Strong beer they preferred
to claret, or to hoch, Sir;
And no poultry they priz'd
like the wing of an ox, Sir. O the, &c.

Good neighbourhood then was as
plenty too as beef Sir;
And the poorest from the rich
never wanted relief, Sir;
While merry went the mill-clack,
the shuttle and the plow, Sir,
And honest people could live by
the sweet of their brow, Sir O the, &c.

Then foosball, and wrestling, and
pitching of the bar, Sir,
Were preferr'd to a flute, to a
fiddle, or guitar, Sir: