I Love thee and Adore thee,
And therefore thou wilt make me pay,
So here is Six pence for thee.
Harlot. Confound you for a stingy Whig,
Do ye think I live by Stealing;
Farewel you Puritannick Prig,
I scorn to take your Shilling.
A Song. Tune of the Old Rigadoon:
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