That is hit from the Low Back’d Car.
Sweet Peggy round her car, sir,
Has strings of ducks and geese;
But the scores of hearts she slaughters,
By far outnumber these.
While she among her poultry sits,
Just like a turtle-dove,
Well worth the cage, I do engage,
Of the blooming God of Love.
As she sits in her Low Back’d Car, the lovers come from afar,