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NEWGATE'S GARLAND:
TO THE TUNE OF THE CUTPURSE.
I.
YE gallants of Newgate, whose fingers are nice
In diving in pockets, or cogging of dice;
Ye sharpers so rich, who can buy off the noose,
Ye honester poor rogues, who die in your shoes,
Attend and draw near,
Good news ye shall hear,
How Jonathan's throat was cut from ear to ear,
How Blueskin's sharp penknife hath set you at ease,
And ev'ry man round me may rob, if he please.
II.
When to the Old Bailey this Blueskin was led,
He held up his hand; his indictment was read;
Loud rattled his chains: near him Jonathan stood;
For full forty pounds was the price of his blood.
Then, hopeless of life,
He drew his penknife,
And made a sad widow of Jonathan's wife.
But forty pounds paid her, her grief shall appease,
And ev'ry man round me may rob, if he please.
