[Pg 1]

MOLLY O'RIGGE.

Sit ye awhile and tipple a bit.
The Delights of Wine.
Caledonia! Native Land!
The Warrior Bard.
Beadle of the Parish.

Glasgow—Printed for the Booksellers.

[Pg 2]

At Cork lived Miss Molly O'Rigge,
With a nose like the snout of a pig,
Long carroty locks,
And ten pounds in the stocks,
Was the fortune of Molly O'Rigge,
What a beautiful Molly O'Rigge.

Tom Treacle lov'd Moll O'Rigge,
A pert little tea-dealing prig,
Says he, Molly my dove,
My heart is brim full of love.
Says she, Grocer, I don't care a fig,
What a hard hearted Molly O'Rigge.

I hate men, quoth Molly O'Rigge.
In love they're a mere whirligig:
But Cornelius O'Whack,
Gave her heart such a smack,
That to church they both caper'd a jig,
What a false-hearted Molly O'Rigge.

Says the tea-dealer, Molly O'Rigge,
My heart is with jealousy big,
Says she, hold your clack,
I'm now Mrs O'Whack
I'm no longer Molly O'Rigge,...