A bunch of roses in his fist, and Jack his bunch of fives.
Cry'd Betsy Brown, “All Troy I'll to a tizzy bet, 'tis
he!
I never thought to see you more, methought you went
to sea:
That you, the crew, and all your togs, (a mouthful for a
shark!)
Good for nothing, graceless dogs! had perish'd in a bark.”
“I'm him as was your lover true, O perjur'd Betsy
Brown!