He seeing that,
Runs with's Hat,
But could not Cover her C for his soul with't.
Have you not seen at Noon of Day,
The Sun his glorious Face display,
So Sissly shone with Beauty's Rays,
Reflecting from her Postern grace;
Till at last
Strugling past,
Wide sprawling Legs were again set in order:
But poor Hall,
Since her fall,
Stood just like one was found guilty of Murder.
The God of Love, or else old Nick,
Sure had design'd this Devilish trick,
To make the Bridegroom and the Bride;
With themselves dissatisfy'd;
She grown coy,
Call'd him Boy,
He getting from her cry'd Zoons you'r a rouzer:
Foh, she cry'd,
By things spy'd,
She had as live a meer Baby should espouse her.
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