Like a Dutch frow, I do protest,
His brogues, indeed, had leather heels,
And beard, well shaven, all conceals;
But gown and petticoat so short,
Shew’d too much legs, but no help for’t.
He of the lady took his leave,
And left O’Neil behind to grieve,
Who thro’ the world with him would go;
But Flora said it would not do:
Because their pass that number bore,