Sally wept till she blew her nose sore!
But scarce had a twelve-month elaps’d, when, behold,
A Brewer, quite stylish, his gig that way roll’d,
And stopp’d it at Sally Green’s door.
His wealth, his pot-belly, and whisky of cane,
Soon made her untrue to her vows;
The steam of strong beer now bewilder’d her brain,
He caught her while tipsy! denials were vain,
So he carried her home as his spouse.
And now the roast beef had been blest by the priest,