And Modesty’s a Thing she’ll ne’er regard:
But yet to give the Teagueland Beast her Due,
Her Skin is really a Mulatto’s Hue;
Ugly’s her Hand, yet Legs so little be,
That litler Mill-Posts you shall seldom see.
Her roving Eyes lascivious Looks betray,
And as the Night obscures a glorious Day,
So Ragged Mantles, or a Cloak do’s hide
Those Imperfections which we should deride.
Splavin’s her Foot, irregular her Nose,