The Mournful Murderer:
OR,
The last Dying Lamentation of George Gadesby, who was Arrained and
found Guilty of that horrid Murther, committed on the Body of his Wife, for
which he received due Sentence of Death, and was accordingly executed at Ty-
bourn, on Friday, the 28th of May, 1697. Tune of, Russel's Farewel.
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THe dismal Day is come at last,
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on which I must receive
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A just Reward for what is past;
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good Lord, I sigh and grieve;
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No Tongue is able to express,
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my mournful misery;
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With melting Tears I do confess,
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'tis just that I should Die.
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No Mortal sure alive can tell,
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what Grief I undergo,
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It was for want of living well,
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which prov'd my Overthrow;
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And now, too late, I do repent,
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my dreadful Villany,
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In melting Tears of Discontent,
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'tis just that I should Die.
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Farewel the Glories of the World,
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they'r almost at an end;
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My Soul is in confusion hurl'd,
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knowing my Bosom-friend,
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Did undergo sad Grief of Heart,
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for this my Villany;
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No one alive can take my part,
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'tis just that I should Die.
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Alas! I shed the dearest Blood,
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of the poor Innocent,
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Which causes me to shed a flood
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of Tears, in Discontent,
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And yet, alas! they'r all in vain,
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dear Christians, now, for why,
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My very Conscience tells me plain,
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'tis just that I should Die.
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She was a kind and vertuous Wife,
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I must acknowledge still,
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And though I took away her Life,
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'twas far against my will;
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Behold that most unhappy Thrust,
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obliges me to cry,
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Of all Mankind I am the worst,
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'tis just that I should Die.
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This is a dreadful Day to me,
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my Glass is almost run,
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Alas! I shall not live to see
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the setting of the Sun;
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I tremble at the very thought
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of this sad Destiny,
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Which has my sad Destruction wrought,
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'tis just that I should Die.
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In frightful Dreams methinks I hear,
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her bitter Groans and Cries,
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As if her Ghost did then appear,
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bleeding before mine Eyes,
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Saying, Dear George, now come away,
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the Laws to satisfie;
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Therefore I may in sorrow say,
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'tis just that I should Die.
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Tho's with Unchristian-cruelty,
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I did destroy my Wife,
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My Friends has daily flatter'd me,
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still with the hope of Life,
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That I should never suffer Death,
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but now 'tis drawing nigh,
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Yet I declare with my last Breath,
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'tis just that I should die.
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The Cries of Conscience follows me,
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e're since I kill'd my Dear;
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Oh! that I might a warning be,
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to all both far and near:
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My Parents do the best you can,
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yourselves to satisfie,
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Since by the Laws of God and Man,
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I do deserve to Die.
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This bitter Death I must embrace,
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and am compell'd to go,
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From this vain World, unto a place
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of Joy, or endless Woe:
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Lord let this shameful Death of mine,
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thy Anger satisfie,
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Now here my Breath I must resign,
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'tis just that I should Die.
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