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THE
Old Hag and her money
You lads of the City give ear to my ditty,
A few simple versss I'm going to lay
down,
How I was seduced for to marry a widow,
I'm sure she had more than £10,000,
The very first night I laid my side down
by her,
Her bones were as sharp as the edge ofa
saw,
Her skin was as as cold as the snow on the
monntain,
And not a whole tooth is her old under
jaw.
Her young waiting-maid then her name
it was Bessy,
And she in her bloom she was scarcely
sixteen,
I slipped her ten guineas to dress in the
fashion,
To go to a ball that was near Stephen's
Green,
We danced and caroused until the next
morning,
And then we came home oy the nrst break
of day,
took my old woman quite loose in my
arms,
And oftentimes wished she was laid in the
clay,
It was early one morning sue called upon
Bessy,
To dress her in style to the doctor to go,
To swade her old frame with the best of
good flannel,
And keep up her head with a fall pound
of tow,
But what do you think was the charge of
the doctor,
A hundred bright guineas which did me
surprise,
To dress my old lady complete in the
fashion,
With a set of new teeth and a paired glass
I took my old woman quit loose from
arms,
Come home my darling I quickly
did say,
think half a guinea will buy you
coffin,
In less than a month you'll be laid in the
clay,
I spent that long argnt in the arms of my
Bctsy,
The curtains being drew round the el
woman's bed,
And when I awoke on the very next mor-
ning,
The first thing I found was my old woman
dead;
When she was interred I called for the key
of her place,
Which I got likewiso there was 400 guineas
sowed upon her baudice,
Which made my dear Bessy and me to
surprise;
There was five hundred more was bid in
her bolster,
And three hundred more in the of
her shoes,
Besides her gold watches and fine
buckles,
We packed them all up ia a trunk to be
sure.
The auctioneer's book it came to few
hundred,
Her parents began for to growl and to
frown,
So all you young fellows that mantes a
widow,
sure that you plant them quite quick
in the ground,
Then try her old bolster likewise bet old
baudice,
Be sure that you tear her void slippers in
throe,
In hopes by a widow you might get a
fortune,
And lire in contentment like beauty and
me