As I went by an Hospital, I heard an Old Woman cry, Kind Sir, quoth she, be kind to me, once more before I Die, And grant to me those Joys, that belong to Woman-kind, And the Fates above reward your Love, To an old Woman Poor and Blind.
I find an itching in my Blood, altho’ it be something Cold, Therefore Good Man do what you can, to comfort me now I’m Old. And Grant to me those Joys, &c.
Altho’ I cannot see the Day, nor never a glance of light; Kind Sir, I swear and do declare, I honour the Joys of Night: Then grant to me those Joys, &c.
When I was in my Blooming Youth, My vigorous Love was Hot; Now in my Age I dare Engage, A fancy I still have got: Then give to me those Joys, &c.
You shall miss of a Reward, If Readily you comply; Then do not Blush but touch my flesh, This minute before I die: O let me tast those Joys, &c.
I Forty Shillings would freely give, ’Tis all the Mony I have; Which I full long have begged for, To carry me to my Grave: This I would give to have the Bliss, &c.
I had a Husband in my Youth, As very well ’tis known, The truth to tell he pleased me well, But now I am left alone; And long to tast the good Old Game, &c.
If Forty Shillings will not do, My Petticoat and my Gown; Nay Smock also shall freely go, To make up the other Crown; Then Sir, pray Grant that kind Request, &c.
Tho’ I am Fourscore Years of Age, I love with a Right good Will; And what in truth I want in Youth, I have it in perfect Skill: Then grant to me that Charming Bliss, &c.
Now if you do not pleasure me, And give me the thing I crave; I do protest I shall not rest, When I am laid in my Grave: Therefore kind Sir, grant me the Joys, &c.
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