The LAMENTATION Of MARY BUTCHER, Now confined in WORCESTER-CITY-GOAL, on Suspicion of murdering her Male Bastard Child, in April last.  

YE blooming Maids I pray give Ear  
To what I lay before ye,  
I am a young Woman, you shall hear  
A melancholy Story:  
I by a false Man was with Child,  
Which caused all my Woe;  
His treacherous Tongue did me beguile,  
And proved my Overthrow.   

My new-born Infant I did destroy,  
In Grief I'm now surrounded,  
Likewise the Man that me betrayed,  
His Senses are confounded:  
Mary Butcher it is my Name,  
In Tears I now do own it,  
Being delivered by myself,  
I in a Dunghill threw it.   

So now observe, my pretty Maids,  
And mind the Application,  
And shun the base deceitful Man,  
Let what will be his Station;  
Some only court their Will to gain,  
Which oftimes prove our Ruin;  
shane and Disgrace to all our Friends,  
And ends in our Undoing.   

Mind not their flattering fawning Tongues,  
Which make young Girls adore them,  
The honest Youth, tho' e'er so poor,  
Is a thousand Times before them.  
Your Parents mind for to obey,  
And what your Friends advices,  
For Trouble always come to those,  
Who good Advice despises.   

Young Maidens now a Warning take,  
By my unhappy Fate,  
No Presents from the Men accept,  
But shun the gilded Bait.  
I very soon did prove with Child,  
I knew it to my shane;  
No Comfort then I e'er could get,  
And then myself did blame.   

Poor Wretch! I thought to hid my shane  
For fear my Friends should know it,  
But by the Murder now you see  
To Multitudes I show it;  
So think of me young Women all,  
Who in Wor'ster City Goal's confined,  
Till the great Assize comes on,  
For to take my Trial I must be resigned.   

Oh! think of this, ye youthful Maidens  
If e'er it's your unhappy Lot,  
To be seduced, on all Occasions,  
Then from your Friends pray hid it not;  
You surely will find some to pity,  
If that you act a Mother's Part,  
'tis better with it go a begging,  
Than a Conscience to feel the Smart.   

So how can I expect to have,  
In this World any Favour,  
I've broken the Laws of God and Man,  
All through my Ill Behaviour.  
From Time to Time run on in Sin,  
But now at last I'm taken,  
And put in Prison where I lye,  
All Friends has me forsaken.