D-n their Doublets, and confound their Breeches,
There’s none besh-t the Wall but Sons of B-ches.
May the French P--x, and the D--vil take ’em all,
That besh-t their Fingers, and wipe them on the Wall.
Lambeth-Wells Bog-House.
Supposed to be wrote by one who had a great Antipathy to Tobacco.
This is a Place that’s very fitting,
To p--ss, and f--rt, to smoke, and sh--t in.
From a Window in a Great House in Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields.
A good Wife is like a Turtle that bills and cooes, and turns up her T——l to her Husband.