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The Facetious Songster: a slap-up
collection of favourite new
flash, amatory and comic songs, now singing at the fake-away clubs,
convivial dinners, &c. by all the tip-top swells. London, Metford [i.e.
John Duncombe, c. 1840]. pp. [i 48]. front.
THE PROGRESS OF A WOMAN OF PLEASURE
Sung at the Cider Cellars
See the Park thronged with coaches, the nobles all run
To view the dear angel - her ruin's begun;
Princes, dukes, lords and bankers are first in her train,
In raptures they ogle, as yet but in vain;
And see the old letcher, with rheum in his eyes,
Scarcely able to crawl, bidding high for the prize
Whilst rakes, bawds, and panders are hunting her down,
The beautiful Sally's first known to the town.
Each gallant adorer with phrenzy's possest,
Lest she by some other one should be addrest -
Though all the same victim with ardour pursue,
Yet by rank, or by gold, one obtains the kind view.
Fond dreams of ambition her virtue assails,
Till her noblest deceiver by words soon prevails.
In splendour now rolling in chariot and four -
The beautiful Sally no higher can soar.
But at length the grand rake is cloyed with his miss,
No longer dear Sally's the fountain of bliss;
Whole nights this bright angel must pass all alone,
To mourn the frail hour she ne'er can atone.
Her glaring attendants - her splendour no more,
She now feels such pangs as she ne'er felt before -
No provision she's made, and her purse growing less,
The beautiful Sally first tastes her distress.
Perhaps fickle fortune the scene now may shift,
And e'er she's quite common may give her a lift -
Her first sad reflection she now seeks to drown,
By flying to pleasure's extravagent round.
Balls, plays, masquerades, and all places of sport,
Wherever the ton goes she's sure to resort -
When no longer weak art her charms can replace,
The beautiful Sally's a wretch at King's Place.Awhile here she stays till all feeling is dead,
Grown callous to shame, she'll drudge for her bread;
Through bitter abuses, cold, hungry, and dry,
The tedious long winter the streets she must ply.
And if some kind chance throws a crown in her way,
The watchman and justice come in for their prey.
Or else from their round to Bridewell she's sent,
Where beautiful Sally may starve and repent.
Now worn with disease she draws fast to her end,
Quite loathsome she crawls to the Lock, her last friend;
Where a crowd of pale sisters her fame do record.
Till her birth, life, and keepers resound through each ward.
While drench'd, rubb'd, and physick'd, all loathsome she lies,
Polluted and feeble, she now scarcely sighs.
Forgotten at thirty, she welcomes grim Death -
The once beauteous Sally thus yields up her breath.
The Facetious Songster [c. 1840]
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