I feel I'm in Love to Distraction,
My Senfes all loft in a Fog:
And nothing can give Satisfaction
But thinking of fweet Molly Mog.

A Letter when I am inditing,

Comes Cupid and gives me a Jog, And I fill all the Paper with writing Of nothing but fweet Molly Mag.

If I would not give up the three Graces
I wish I were hang'd like a Dog,
And at Court all the Drawing-Room Faces,
For a Glance of my fweet Molly Mag.

Those Faces want Nature and Spirit,
And feems as cut out of a Log,
Juno, Venus, and Pallas's Merit
Unite in my sweet Molly Mog.

Those who toast all the Family Royal,
In Bumpers of Hogan and Nog,
Have Hearts not more true or more loyal
Than mine to my fweet Molly Mog...

Were Virgil alive with his Phillis,

And writing another Eclogue; Both his Phillis and fair Amaryllis He'd give up for fweet Mally Mog.

When

When she smiles on each Guest, like her Liquor,

Then Jealoufy fets me agog,

To be fure fhe's a Bit for the Vicar,
And fo I fhall lofe Molly Mog.

* A new Song of new SIMILIES.

MY

Paffion is as Mustard strong;

I fit all fober fad,

Drunk as a Piper all Day long,
Or, like a March Hare, mad.

Round as a Hoop the Bumpers flow;
I drink, yet can't forget her;
For tho' as drunk as David's Sow,
I love her ftill the better.

Pert as a Pear-monger I'd be,
If Molly were but kind ;
Cool as a Cucumber could fee

The reft of Womankind.

Lean as a Rake with Sighs and Care,

Sleek as a Moufe before.

Plump as a Partridge was I known,
And foft as Silk my Skin,

My Cheeks as fat as Butter grown;
But as a Groat now thin!

I melancholy as a Cat,

Am kept awake to weep;
But fhe, infenfible of that,
Sound as a Top can fleep,

Hard is her Heart as Flint or Stone,
She laughs to fee me pale,
And merry as a Grig is grown,
And brifk' as Bottled-Ale.

The God of Love, at her Approach,

Is bufy as a Bee,

Hearts found as any Bell or Roach,
Are fmit, and figh like me.

Ay me, as thick as Hops or Hail,

The fine Men crowd about her;

But foon as dead as a Door-Nail
Shall I be, if without her.

Strait as my Leg her Shape appears;

O were we join'd together!

My Heart would be fcot-free from Cares,
And lighter than a Feather.

As

As fine as Five-pence is her Mien,

No Drum was ever tighter ; Her Glance is as the Razor keen, And not the Sun is brighter.

As foft as Pap her Kiffes are,
Methinks I taste them yet;
Brown as a Berry is her Hair,
Her Eyes as black as Jet.

As fmooth as Glafs, as white as Curds,
Her pretty Hand invites;
Sharp as a Needle are her Words,

Her Wit, like Pepper, bites.

Brisk as a Body-Loufe fhe trips,
Clean as a Penny dreft;

Sweet as a Rofe her Breath and Lips,

Round as the Globe her Breast.

Full as an Egg was I with Glee,

And happy as a King:

Good Lord! how all Men envy'd me!
She lov'd like any Thing.

But falfe as Hell, fhe, like the Wind,
Chang'd, as her Sex must do;
Tho' feeming as the Turtle kind,

And like the Gospel true.

T

If I and Molly cou'd agree,

Let who wou'd take Peru!

Great as an Emp'ror fhould I be,
And richer than a few.

Till you grow tender as a Chick,
I'm dull as any Poft;

Let us, like Burs, together stick,

And warm as any Toaft.

You'll know me truer than a Dye,
And wifh me better fped ;
Flat as a Flounder when I lie,
And as a Herring dead.

Sure as a Gun, fhe'll drop a Tear,
And figh perhaps, and wish,
When I am rotten as a Pear,
And mute as any Fifh.

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