Let her be young, or let her be old,
It is for her beauty she must be sold.
Eighteenpence would buy such a wench,
As either you or your daughter Jane.[10]
—Middlesex (from Mrs. Pocklington-Coltman’s maid).
There came a king from Spain,
To court your daughter Jane.
My daughter Jane, she’s yet too young
To be deluded by a flattering tongue.
Whether she’s old, or whether she’s young,
It’s for her beauty she must come.
Then turn about, her coat is thin,
And seek the fairest of your right.
The fairest one that I can see
Is fair and lovely Jan-ie.
Then here’s my daughter safe and sound,
And in her pocket three hundred pound,
And on her finger a gay gold ring,
She’s fit to walk with any king.