AN
ELEGY
On the never to be lamented Death of
Mirs. McLeod, who was Execute on
Wednesday the 8th of March, 1727.
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O Curs'd Atropus, thou cancard Wife,
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I wonder what aild thee to draw thy Knife,
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And in such Fury, for to take the Life
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of honest Lucky,
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Wha was an ne're bred Stirt nor Strife,
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You de'ils Bucky.
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(2)
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I'm very sure that you did wrong her,
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In sending John Dalglish to hang her,
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You might have let her leave some langer,
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Maybe she'd mended
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But John out o're the Lader dang her,
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Thus she Life ended.
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(3)
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The Warld kens she was a Whore,
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A Cheet, a Liar an evil Doer,
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And like a Falk'ner with his Lure,
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She did intice,
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Many an honest Man I'm sure,
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To be her Prize.
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(4)
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Mourn for her, you that Sisters be,
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Into the Trade of Venerie,
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Groan, Greet and Roar until you die,
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Cause Megg is dead,
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Who at our Trade bore off the Gree,
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As clean's a Beed.
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(5)
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Let Tears from a' Eyes be distil'd.
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And let our Hearts with Grief be fill'd,
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To think, that Megg herself has kill'd,
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wi' her aun Hands,
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Because that she was so well skill'd,
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In forging Bands,
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(6)
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Let us who Cheets or plays the Knave,
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Mourn for poor Megg as well's the Leave,
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Or yet our Neighbour's does deceave,
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Like Cheeting Li'rs,
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Follow poor Megg unto her Grave,
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In the Grayfri'rs.
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(7)
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I grant that she does go awa,
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From Gallows to the Surgeons Ha
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To be desect amang them a
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That's Surgeon Lads,
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We'll follow her, all in a Raw,
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Cheets, Thieves and Bads.
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(8)
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Because, when that she was alive,
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She thieflick Shifts did ay contrive,
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All honest Men for to deprive,
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Of their good Name,
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For which Cause John, did poor Megg drive,
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To her lang Hame.
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(9)
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Sae proudly she went up the Town,
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wi' Shivirings white and Satin Gown,
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And John Dalglish that Hangman Lown,
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walking behind her,
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Then when the Bow they both went down,
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She bad him mind her.
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(10)
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And Swore to John upon her Life,
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That she without e're Stirt or Strife,
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Wad leave her Cleas unto his Wife,
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To busk on Sunday.
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Because of them she is not riffe,
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wi' that a Jundy,
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(11)
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John did gi' Megg out o're the Ledder,
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Till she did swing into his Tedder,
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And as tender Hearted as a Father,
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And so discreet,
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Or he wad hurt her Neck, he'd rather,
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Draw down her Feet.
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(12)
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Now when that she is dead and gane,
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And stiff and cauld as any Stane,
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I'm sure they'l none for her make Main,
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Save Brother Curry,
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Who down the Bow by John, will be drawn,
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In Tow to worry.
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EIther into the Surgeons ha
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Or else in the Gray-Friars,
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Lyes an, who John in's Tow did draw,
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Queen of Whores, Cheet and Liars.
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Wha in her Life bred meikle Strife,
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Few can her Life comend,
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For them that liveth a bad Life.
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Always the same dos End.
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