And his fair promises, he’s this poor maid undone;
For when he found he’d caught her fast in Cupid’s snare,
Then made he all alike, Betty’s no more his dear.
Drinking was his delight, his senses sure to dose,
Keeping lewd company, when he should seek repose;
His money being spent, and they would tick no score,
Then with a face of brass, he ask’d poor Bett for more.
At length he met with one, a serving-maid in town,
Who for good ale and beer would often pawn her gown,
And at all-fours she’d play, as many people know,