The Careless Curate and the Bloody Butcher:  
In a Narrative of sad News from Chelmsford in Essex, declaring an Execrable Murder Committed by a Barbarous Butcher, who coming home at midnight, and finding the Parson of the Parish in bed with his Wife, in a revengeful passion with his Knife cut off his privy Members, By which he died: and the Malefactor being immediately Apprehended, is Committed to Chelmsford Gaol. A deplorable Example to dehort all sorts of Men and Women from Adultery and Murder.  
To the tune of, Oh women, monstrous women,  
 

BLack Murder and Adultery  
Are two such sworn Brothers,  
That whosoe'er their fathers be  
Hot passions are their Mothers,  
As Will appear in this Narration,  
More full of woe and lamentation,  
Then ever came into this Nation,  
And by report 'tis true.   

From Chelmsford Town in Essex this  
Sad Narrative was sent,  
I wish 'twere false because there is  
A Clergy person in't:  
But when the Devil doth begin  
With fly deceits to draw us in.  
Princes and Priests are all but Men  
And prone to do amiss.   

When p'ety is quite forgot  
We fear each Rock and shelf,  
This Minister it seems was not  
A Curate to himself,  
Had he been so (I must be true l're)  
He had not been betrayed by beauty  
To lay aside his holy duty,  
To run at Butcher's Wives   

And though from this Adulterous sin  
I can no whit exempt her,  
She met much disadvantage when  
Her Tutor proved her Tempter:  
But this is no excuse before  
That judge whom all good men adore  
Or plea for playing of the whore  
With any man alive.   

They say this Parson often espied  
This Butcher's Wife at Church;  
'Twas there that Devil was his guide  
Which left him in the lurch:  
But that foul fiend is every where  
and though the house of prayer it were  
the devil would have his chapel there  
Witness the Butcher's Wife.   

The second part,  
to the same tune.  
 

This Parson did solicit her  
And she in time old yield,  
Women are not like men of war  
That stoutly ●éep the field:  
One night that Butcher went from home  
Then did this jolly Gamester come  
To take some lawless pleasure from  
The beauteous Butcher's Wife.   

But in the midst of all their sport  
The bloody Butcher came  
Who seeing them in such a sort  
Was strangely out of frame:  
He stared and loo'kd about him then  
and thought (when he that black Coat had seen)  
Hugh Peter had been alive again  
And fumbling with his Wife.   

The Parson and the Woman to  
Began to preach and pray,  
But he (as bloody Butchers do)  
Is deaf to all they say,  
Without regard unto his Coat  
He took his rival by the throat,  
And with a fury flaming hot  
He drew a desperate Knife.   

The Butcher knéeled upon his breast,  
The woman cried forbear,  
But he (with rank revenge possessed)  
Cut off his Lady-ware:  
He might as well have stabbed his heart;  
For after grievous pain and smart,  
His soul did from his body part,  
This Butcher was a Beast.   

The Buther's wife shréeked and cried  
Which called the Neighbour's in,  
And there (in little time) they spied  
Two horrid Acts of sin,  
And then the Officers were called,  
Who to a justice had him haled,  
And now he is (li●e a Ox installed)  
Shut up in a Chelmsford Gaol.   

There he until the Sizes come  
Is close confined to lie,  
From whence he may expect his doom:  
For surely he shall die,  
His wife is full of sorrow fraught,  
To think that she (by courses nought)  
Hath such a sad confusion brought  
Upon three Souls at once.   

But now 'tis time I should conclude  
This fatal sad report,  
I hope there's none will be so rude  
To judge the Clergy for't:  
They are but Men as well as we,  
And subject to infirmity:  
God keep us from Adultery,  
Malice, Revenge and Blood,     

Printed for William Gilbertson.