In my time I have heard queer ghost stories told, How through keyholes they’d pop in the days of old, But I can’t think men such fools to come out in the cold, On purpose the people to scare; So if it’s a live ghost playing a trick, And you can his Ghostship come near, The best way to pay him is with a thick stick, And he’d never trouble again Woburn Square. H. DISLEY, Printer, 57, High Street, St. Giles’s. THE WICKED WOMAN OF CHIGWELL. Come one and all, and listen to This funny little song, Concerning Mrs Harrison, I will not keep you long; She in Chigwell Road resided, With her husband, so it’s said, She swore that Saunders on the 12th of March, Assaulted her in bed. So listen to this funny tale, She tried to cause much strife. Did this false swearing woman,-- The Chigwell Station master’s wife. At Epping Sessions, there this case occurred. And she said, now only think, That the docter, Mr. Saunders, With her played at tiddly-wink; That he went into her chamber, When her husband left the room, How far her story there was true, I’ll let you know full soon. She refused to say one word about Her former course of life; Oh, is she not a beauty! This Chigwell Station-master’s wife When the Counsel for the Docter, Soon put this lady down, By asking her the manner She lived in Peterborough town. Now a witness he was called, And when he did pop in: Pray, do you know this gentleman? She cried, yes, all serene! But whether it is true or not, At least the folks do say, That he with this famed Mrs. H-- Some funny games did play. Round Ilford and round Epping, And Romford too it seems, That she was very fond of pork, And she dearly loved her greens! But to swear that Docter Saunders Assaulted her, ’twixt me and you, She must tell it to the devil, For with us that tale won’t do. One word for Docter Saunders-- That kind and skilful man-- She ought to be well bonneted And put in the prison van; Such disgraceful dirty conduct-- It really was too bad, And when the Docter was discharged The people were right glad. Smith, Printer, High Street, London. MARY NEWALL, The Artful Girl of Pimlico. Come all you ladies list to me, And give me every attention, It’s all about a servant girl, That I am going to mention, Mary Ann Newall is her name, She possessed herself of riches, She collar’d all her master’s tin, And swore she’d wear the breeches Mary Newall is a nice yound girl, She possessed herself of riches, In the Vauxhall Road she crack’d the crib And put on the pegtop breeches.