I’ll give your large fortune to the nearest of kin,
And you shan’t reap the benefit of one single pin.”
Singing, &c.
As Vilikins was valiking the garden around,
He spied his dear Dinah lying dead upon the ground,
And the cup of cold pison, it lay by her side,
With a billet-doux a stating, ’twas by pison she died.
Singing, &c.
He kiss’d her cold corpus a thousand times o’er,
And call’d her his Dinah though she was no more,