And as for mercy, small share she gave me,
So I think my Lord Judge, you plainly may see,
It’s no joke to live in a Convent.
So ladies all, don’t think it a sin,
If your husband at night you can’t keep in,
Send for Mrs. Starr, and bundle him in,
And give him a month in a Convent;
He’ll miss his wife to tuck in the clothes,
To make him gruel and tallow his nose,
For one dose will cure him I do suppose,