THE
BANKRUPT BAWD.
Tune, Vicar of Bray.
Near Jermyn-street a Bawd did trade,
In credit, style, and splendor,
Well known to ev’ry high-bred blade,
And those of doubtful gender:
How Nature once, in marring mood,
Her body form’d, I’ll tell ye,
Upon her back a swelling stood,
To mock her barren belly.