From Bawdy Rhymes, and Hole besh--t.
From Walls besmear’d with stinking Ordure,
By Swine who nee’r provide Bumfodder
Libera Nos ——
Upon a Pillar at the Royal-Exchange.
This City is a World that’s full of Streets,
And Death’s the Market-Place where Mankind meets;
If Life were Merchandize, that Men could buy,
The Rich would only live, the Poor must die.