Miss Bridget _Trot_, a "_wo_"-man was,
Of excellent repute,
Who _kept a stand_ in Leadenhall,
And there disposed of fruit.

And though in features rather _dark_,
No _fairer_ could be found;
For what she sold, like _ringing_ gold,
When _peeled_, was always _sound_!

She had moreover notions _high_,
And thought herself above
The very _low_-ly common way
Of _falling_ into love.

And therefore when to her his _suit_
A _Snip_ did often press
With vows of love, she _cut_ him _short_
At _length_, without _re-dress_.

Yet nothing odd was there in this
One case, it must be said;
For who that wish'd a _perfect_ man
Could with a _ninth part_ wed?

Not she for one, whatever he
Might do to make him _smart_,
And howsoe'er her saying "Nay"
Might add it to his heart.