BLUE EYED MARY.

IN a cottage embosom'd within a deep shade,
Like a rose in a desart, oh! view the mèek maid,
Her aspect all sweetness, all plaintive her eye,
And a bosom for which c'en a monarch might sigh;
Then in neat Sunday gown see her met by the 'squire,
All attraction her countenance, his all desire;
He accosts her, she blushes, he flatters, she smiles,
And soon blue eyed Mary's seduc'd by his wiles.

Now with drops of contrition her pillow's wet o'er,
But the fleece when once stain'd can know whiteness no more;
The aged folks whisper, the maiden's look shy,
To town the 'squire presses, how can she deny ?
There, behold her in lodgings, she dresses in style,
Public places frequents, sighs no more, but reads Hoyle;
Learns to squander, they quarrel, his love turns to hate,
And soon blue eyed Mary is left to her fate.

Still of beauty possess'd and not yet void of shame,
With a heart that recoils at the prostitute's name,
She tries for a service, her character's gone,
And for skill at her needle, alas! 'tis unknown;
Pale want now approaches, the pawn-broker's near,
And her trinkets and cloaths one by one disappear;
'Till at length sorely pinch'd and quite desperate grown,
The poor blue eyed Mary is forc'd on the town.

In a brothel next see her trick'd out to allure,
And all ages all humours compell'd to endure;
Compell'd tho' disgusted to wheedle and feign,
With an aspect all smiles and a bosom all pain;
Now caress'd, now insulted, now flatter'd, now scorn'd,
And by ruffians and drunkards oft wantonly spurn'd,
This worst of all misery she's doom'd to endure,
For the poor blue eyed Mary is now an impure.

Whilst thus the barb'd arrow sinks deep in her soul,
She flies for relief to that traitor the bowl,
Grows stupid and bloated and lost to all shame,
Whilst a dreadful disease is pervading her frame;
Now with eyes dim and languid the once blooming maid,
In a garret on straw faint and helpless is laid!
Oh! mark her pale cheek, see, she scarce takes her breath,
And lo! her blue eyes are now seal'd up in death!

Published by E. RUSHTON, Liverpool, August, 1799, and sold by S. W. FORES, No. 50, Piccadilly, London.

M'CREEKY, PRINTER