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The sight of the guineas soon altered her tale,
She said I’ll be pilot, so let us make sail,
They put about ship and soon they made port,
And came to an anchor in the bay of Plough Court.
The bawd was an ugly fat lump of a thing,
And two or three times in the pillory had been,
She welcomes them in, and unto him she said,
Use her tender dear boy, for my daughter’s a maid.
Jack being safe moor’d, with his miss on his knee,
Thought none was so jovial and knowing as he,
The liquor came freely, he push’d round the grog,
And wish’d that our fleets might our enemies flog.
The influence of liquor got into his crown,
And being too heavy, he fell to the ground,
They strait took his purse which contained his store,
And put him to bed with a dead black-a-more.
He snored till day-light as I have been told,
Then turning to kiss her he found she was cold,
On viewing his charmer rose up in a fright,
And swore he’d been kissing the devil all night.
He jump’d out of bed and soon put on his clothes,
In a hurry straightway to his mess-mates he goes,
He told them the story they laugh’d at the fun,
And cry’d d—n me Jack why the deep one was flung.
His mess-mates they jeer him and say it was queer,
That for one night’s lodging he should pay so dear,
Jack laugh’d at this frolick as does many more,
'When they think how he cuddl'd a dead black-a-more.
JUST the THING.
ON Newgate steps Jack Chance was found,
And bred up near St. Giles’s pond,
(My story’s true deny it who can,)
By saucy leering Billingsgate Nan.
