We’ve White and Black Bulls and two Suns in one street, One Swan and two Lions which never taste meat, And here you see women with bottles and jugs, Roll into these taverns and dram-drinking snugs, As brazen as brass to get an odd glass. In some of these shops where a fool cannot pass. No wonder that Pop-ticket, women and wags, Are dressed up in nothing but patches and rags. Their dresses and shawls for strong liquor they’ll swop, Yes, Tagrag and Bobtail must go to the pop; And when this is done, away they will run, To either a Lion, a Bull, or a Sun. Such poor sorry women who pledge their old rags, Are known by their petticoats hanging in jags; You’ll see them at night with their heads wrapt in shawls Not far from the Dram-shop, or sign of Three Balls, With bonnets and hats, old dresses and brats, Made up into bundles as you have seen Pat’s. LONDON:- T. Such, Printer, Union street, Boro.’ PRETTY MAIDENS BEWARE! A LOVE LETTER from SARAH to CHARLES. [Illustration] The following epistle was written by a girl at Deal to her sweetheart, a sailor on board a man of war in the Downs. The lieutenant of the ship found it on board, twisted up with tobacco in it, by which it seems our seafaring spark had as little regard for his mistress, after enjoyment, as if he had been of a more illustrious rank. Lovin Der Charls, This mi kind love to yow is to tell yow, after all owr sport and fon, I am lik to pay fort, for I am with child; and wors of al, my sister _Nan_ knos it, and cals me hore and bech, and is redy to ter my sol owt, and curs _Jack Peny_ lies with her evry tim he cums ashor; and the saci dog wold have lade with me to, but I wold not let him, for I wil be always honest to yow; therfor der Charls com ashor, and let us be mared to safe my vartu: and if yow have no munni, I will paun my new stais and sel mi to new smoks yow gave me, and that will pay the parsen and find us a diner; and pray der lovin _Charls_ cum ashor, and der _Charls_ dont be frad for wont of a ring, for I have stole mi sister _Nans_, and the nasty tod shall never have it no mor; for she tels abot that I am goin to have a bastard, and God bles yowr lovin sol cum sune, for I longs to be mared accordin to yowr promis, and I will be yowr der vartus wife til deth, SARAH JOHNSON. Feb 19th. P.S.--Pray dont let yowr mesmat Jack se this, if yow do hel tel owr _Nan_, and shel ter mi hart owt then, for shes a devil at me now. _A Poetical Version of the foregoing._