Ballad—in the Mischance

For I am the girl that was made for my Joe, And Joe is the lad that was model'd for me, Our tempers agree; And all the world over with him would I go, And work late or early, nor think it a pain, For I ne'er lov'd my Joe for the lucre of gain.

If so be, by good chance, such a fortunate thing Was to happen, for me to be crownd a queen, 'Twould quickly be seen, If they did not consent to moke Joey a king, That for Bet they might get who they would for to reign, For I ne'er lov'd my Joe for the lucre of gain.

O'Conner, he in the pae-aches that plies. Ap Skenkin, the Welchman, MacPherson the Scot, For his sake went to pot; Nay, (though many a girl would have thought him a prize,) I refus'd a Jew broker, from Petticoat-lane For I ne'er lov'd my Joe for the lucre of gain