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MOLLY O‘RIGGE, AND TOM TREACLE.
At Cork lived Miss Molly O’Rigge,
With a nose like the snout of a pig,
Long carroty locks,
And ten pounds in the stocks,
Was the fortune of Molly O’Rigge,
What a beautiful Molly O’Rigge.
Tom Treacle lov'd Moll O’Rigge,
A pert little tea-dealing prig,
Says he, Molly my dove,
My heart is brim fell of love.
Says she, Grocer, I don’t care a fig,
What a hard hearted Molly O’Rigge.
I hate men, quoth Molly O’Rigge.
In love they’re a mere whirligig:
But Cornelius O’Whack,
Gave her heart such a smack,
That to church they both caper’d a jig,
What a false-hearted Molly O’Rigge.
Says the tea-dealer, Molly O’Rigge,
My heart is with jealousy big,
