Lamentable New Verses Called, The Rich Heiresses downfall, Sir John Johnsons farewell; Being a true Relation how She was drawn in to do that wicked thing, and how her Guardian had designed her for her own Son, who now refuses her; With what happened thereupon. As likewise a short Prayer for the unfortunate young Lady.  

ALl Christians that have Ears to Hear,  
And Hearts inclined to Pitty;  
Some of you all, bestow a Tear,  
Upon my mournful Ditty.   

In Queen-Street did an Heiress live,  
Whose downfall when I sing,  
Twill make the very stones to grieve:  
God prosper long our King.   

For Her a Scotish Knight did die,  
Was ever the like seen,  
I shane to say, where, how, or why;  
And so God Save the QUEEN.   

To tell the truth she swore a Rape,  
But God knows who was wronged,  
For he that did it, did Escape,  
and he did not, was hanged.   

She Swore another thing besides,  
Which was indeed a 'vice,  
That Cambel when she was his Bride,  
Did trouble her but thrice.   

The Fourth time he could do no good,  
Tho' she was of't commanding,  
And striven t'oblige him all she could,  
He fell down Notwithstanding.   

The Devil him sure an ill turn meant,  
I pity his mishap,  
For that which else, had been consent,  
By her was made a Rape.   

Twas this the Young Girls choler moved;  
for the next Morn she swore,  
E're she'd be a wife but three times loved,  
she'd rather be his whore.   

Parents take warning by his fall,  
When Maids are in their Teens,  
To mary 'em straight, or they will all,  
Know what the Business means.   

For Girls like nuts( excuse my Rhyme)  
At bottom growing brown,  
If you don't gather them betimes,  
Will of themselves fall down.   

But dont you Pity now her case,  
Was forced to sand for Surgeon,  
To show the man the very place,  
Where once she was a Virgin.   

For now what fool that is not mad,  
Will mary this same girl,  
That might have been wife to a Lad,  
Was Brother to an Earl.   

The wretched Soul were better dead,  
Now none with her will match,  
Unless her Guardian would her Wed,  
To Doctor O—, or catch.   

For tho' she meant her Eldest Son,  
should Wed her for her means,  
And passed an Act to have it done,  
Yet he forbids the Banes.   

The Col. has a Noble Soul,  
That scorns a thought so poor,  
As when he knows her stead is stolen,  
To shut the Stable door.   

Mother, quoth he, I understand,  
The nature of these matters,  
Who now will Angle in her Pond,  
Must fish in troubled waters.   

Have I in Ireland gotten famed,  
By following Honours trumpet,  
And think you that I'll slain my name,  
For any Scotchman's Strumpet.   

No I'm a man of Warlike Scarlet,  
And cannot be content  
To mary one that is a Harlot,  
By Act of Parliament.   

Why then quo ' she, Ah! Son I'm lost,  
I fear you'l live to see't;  
I shall be in a Blanket tossed,  
I'th' middle of Queen-Street.   

The Mob already daily come,  
And thundering at my Door,  
Much louder then the Noise of Drum,  
They cry out, a Whore a Whore.   

When Johnson was to Tyburn coached,  
I would not then be heard on,  
For fear I might ha● been debauched,  
To a got the poor mans pardon.   

But had I known that 'gainst my choice,  
You would be thus Haranguing,  
I would ha' took his Hundred pound,  
And sav d the Knight from Hanging.   

She still persisted, he denied,  
She wept, and still he swore,  
He scorned her Heiress for his bride,  
The reasons you'd before.   

Beside 'twas she who hanged the Knight,  
trapped by her impious snares,  
But Heaven, I hope, will do her right,  
According to my Prayers.   

MAy she so Whore, that of her pelf,  
By some damned Regues she's shamed,  
And then for grief go hang her self,  
And so in fire be d— d,   

Her carcase like to Jezabels,  
May Dogs i'th field devour,  
One Hell's to little for her Ill's,  
I need not say no more.   

God bless K. William and Q. Mary,  
And Plenty, and Peace advance,  
And Hang up those wish the contrary,  
And then a Fig for France.    

Printed for Poet ninnie, and are to be sold the D— l knows where.