His waistcoat and stockings and breeches were white,
His cap had a new cherry ribbon to tie't.
The maids to the doors and the balconies ran,
And said, "Lack-a-day, he's a proper young man!"
And as at the windows the ladies he spied,
Like a beau in a box, he bowed low on each side,
And when his last speech the loud hawkers did cry,
He swore from the cart, "It was all a damn'd lie!"
The hangman for pardon fell down on his knee:
Tom gave him a kick in the guts for his fee: