THE Unfortunate WELSHMAN; OR, The Untimely Death of Scotch JOCKEY  
If her will Fight, her cause to right, as daring to presume  
To Kill and Slay, than well her may take this to be her Doom.  
To the tune of, The Country-Farmer.  

This may be Printed,  
R. P.   
 
 
 

S●●●● Shonny-ap-Morgan to London would ride,  
〈◊〉 seek Cousin Taffie what ever betid;  
〈◊〉 ●●n Sisters Son, whom her loved so dear,  
〈◊〉 ●●d not beheld him this many long year:  
●●●●●es in the morning stout Shonny arose,  
●nd then on the journey with Courage her goes,  
〈◊〉 Cossit of Grace was the best of her Close  
〈◊〉 Boots they were out at the heels and the toes.   

〈◊〉 Sword by her side, and with Bob the Grey Mare,  
〈◊〉 rid on the Road like a Champion so rare;  
〈◊〉 ●ast how it happened to her hard Lot,  
To meet with young jockey, a bonny brisk Scot  
Then jockey was jolly, and thus he did say,  
Let's gang to the Tavern, drink Wine by my faith,  
Then Shonny consented, and made no delay,  
But jockey left Shonny the Reckoning to pay.   

While Morgan was Merry, and thinking no ill,  
The Scotchman he used the best of his Skill,  
Considering how he might Scamper away,  
For why Sir, he never intended to pay  
But like a false Loon he slipped out of door  
And never intended to come there no more,  
Poor Shonny-a-Morgan was left for the Score  
Cotzo her was never so served before.   

Her paying the Shot, then away her went,  
The Welsh Blood was up, and her mind was Bend  
For speedy pursuing he then did prepare,  
Then Morgan did mount upon Bob the Grey Mare  
Then Whip and Spur stout Shonny did ride,  
And overtook jockey near to a Wood-side,  
And pulled out her Sword in the height of her Pride.  
And wounded poor jockey, who presently died.   

Then Shonny was taken and hurried to jail,  
Where her till the Sessions did weep and bewail;  
And then at the last, by the Laws of the Land,  
Was brought to the Bar to hold up her hand;  
O good her Lord Shudge, poor Shonny did cry,  
Now Whip her, and send her to Wales her Country;  
Or cut off a Leg, or an Arm, or an Eye,  
For her is undone if Condemned to die.   

But this would not do, poor Shonny was Cast,  
And likewise received her Sentence at last;  
A Gentleman Robber just at the same time,  
Received just Sentence then due for his Crime:  
Then Shonny-a-Morgan her shed many tears,  
Her heart was possessed with sorrow and fears,  
The Gentleman Thief likewise hung down his ears  
For than he expected his ancient Arrears.   

The day being come they must both did adieu,  
Forsaking the world and the rest of their Crew;  
The Spark was attired so gallant and gay,  
But Shonny was poor, and in ragged array:  
Then when they came both to the Gibbet Tree,  
The Gentleman gave to the Hangman a Fee,  
And said, let this Welshman Hang farther from me,  
So vile and so ragged a Rascal is he.   

The Welshman he heard him, and was in a rage,  
That nothing almost could his anger assuage;  
But fretting and chaffing, he thus did begin,  
Her will make her to know that her came of good kin  
Besides, her will tell her her hearty belief,  
That her is no more than a Gentleman Thief,  
That robbed on the Roads, & the Plain, & the Heath  
Her now will Hang by her in spite of her teeth.   
FINIS.   

Printed for J. Deacon, at the Angel in Gultispur-street.