The Bloody Butcher, And the two wicked and cruel Bawds:  
Expressed in a woeful Narrative of one Nathaniel Smith a Butcher, who lived in Maypole-Alley near the Strand; his Wife having been all day in the Market selling of Meat, in the evening went with her Husband to an Alehouse, where they stayed till ten of the clock, and then went home together, and being in their lodging, demanded of her the Money she had taken that day, but she (being great with child and peevish) refused to give it him, he taking his Butchers-knife in his hand stabbed her in the back, whereof she instantly died, for which he was Apprehended, Condemned, and Executed at Tyburn, April the 24th. 1667.  
As also another Relation of a Ravisher, who in a Bawdy-house (assisted by two Women) ravished a Girl.  
The tune, The bleeding heart.  

 
 

What horrid execrable Crimes.  
Possess us in these latter Times;  
Not Pestilence, nor Sword, nor Fire,  
Will make us from our Sins retire.   

Two sad Relations that befell  
Us in this Month, I shall you tell,  
As dismal dreadful Deeds they be,  
As ever you did hear or see.   

One was the Murder of a Wife,  
By wrathful Hand, and bloody Knife;  
Tother declares those that defiled,  
The Virgin body of a Child.   

A Butcher, as we understand,  
Lived near the Maypole in the Strand;  
Nathaniel Smith, who lost his life,  
For the sad slaughter of his Wife.   

After so many years their hands,  
Had been conjoined in wedlock hands,  
Whereby came many Children small,  
One wretched hour confounds them all.   

This Butcher's Wife did keep a Seat  
I' th' Marketplace to sell her Meat;  
And was by all report that's made,  
A careful housewife in the Trade.   

One fatal Evening being come,  
From Market, to her latest home,  
She and her Husband both went then,  
To a Victualling-house and stayed till ten.    

The second part,  
to the same tune.  

THen went together home, where when  
A little season they had been;  
He in a bold imperious way,  
Demands the Coin she took that day.   

She being with Child, and fretful too,  
What he commands she would not do;  
Which, with his drink, begat a rage,  
Nothing but Murder could assuage.   

Words made his passion mount up higher  
She was the bellows, he the fire:  
Words are but wind, but yet they do,  
Pierce through the Soul and Body too.   

The Devil had subdued him there,  
And whispered Murder in his ear;  
Which he impatient of delay,  
Doth perpetrate the readiest way.   

With a strong long sharp-poynted knife,  
Into the back he stabs his wife:  
Flesh of his flesh, bone of his bone  
With one dead-doing blow is gone.   

She faltered, fainted, fell down dead,  
Upon the ground her blood was shed;  
The little Infant in the womb  
Received there both Life and Toomb.   

Then was he Apprehended, by  
Some Neighbours that did hear her cry  
Out Murder, murder, and for this,  
He judged and Executed is.   

Let this a warning be to those,  
Whose Passions are their greatest Foes:  
And let all Women have a care,  
To stir those that impatient are.   

Ten angry words with wrath and Knife,  
Has killed a Husband and a Wife;  
An Infant too, which makes up Three,  
And ruin'd a whole Family.   

But mischiefs seldom come alone,  
My Muse hath yet another Groan;  
A sigh, a tear, and much of moan,  
To tell a Deed but lately done.   

There was one Mary, a grand Bawd,  
That lived by Lechery and Fraud;  
Assisted by her Daughter Bess,  
Did keep a house of wickedness.   

They lived at Westminster, where they,  
Many a Virgin did betray:  
Whose wicked actions made them rue,  
This Fact they did, which I'll tell you.   

It seems a Fellow thither came,  
To pacify his lustful flame;  
Having a fire of Drink before,  
Came to be quenched by a Whore.   

They being destitute, did meet,  
A Neighbour's Daughter in the street;  
A pretty Child, and as 'tis told,  
By many, but of Ten years old.   

Yet she is tempted in by them,  
To serve their turn in that extreme,  
And then delivered up to One,  
Was more a Devil than a Man.   

Unto this weak unwary Child,  
That was unfit to be defiled;  
In order to their base Design,  
They give it Brandy, Ale, and Wine.   

Their hot Guest for a Wench doth call,  
They brought him One, but very small;  
It served his turn, and he did fly,  
At his small Game, they standing by,   

The Child resisted and cried out,  
The old Bawd choked her with a Clout  
Stopped in the mouth; the Fellow spoiled,  
With furious lust the fainting Child.   

The Fellow having Ravished,  
This tender Child, away he fled:  
But what he was, or who, is known  
Not as I hear, to any one.   

The two that held, and stopped her breath,  
Most justly now have suffered Death;  
Much pity 'tis that he is fréeed,  
By flight, that did the filthy Deed.   

Thus have I told you Two sad Crimes,  
Committed in these worst of Times;  
Let all that hear me now, by this,  
Take warning not to do amiss.   

Return to God, reform your Lives,  
Men be not bitter to your wives:  
Wives love your Husbands, for bad words  
Have drawn a hundred thousand swords.   

Let Love and Patience both agree,  
To keep us all in Amity;  
Then all our bloody Broils will cease,  
God save the King, and send us Peace.     

With Allowance. London, Printed by E. Crouch, for F. Coles, T. Vere, and J. Wright.