Miss Br—wn, No. 8, Castle Street, Oxford Market.
Give me plenty of bub,
From the large brandy tub,
And I'll spend the whole night in your arms,
I'll expose every part
Of my brown apple cart,
And stifle, quite stifle the boy in its charms.
I hope none of our readers will proves a Mr. L—d—tt, who, about six months ago, from a mere silly quarrel with this his favourite fair, thought it convenient to finish his existence in the leaden way; she does not possess either youth or novelty sufficient to tempt many, to act in that way, having been at least seven years a trading nymph to our knowledge; she is tall, and genteelly made, with a fine skin, and beautiful flaxen hair, but is too fond of the brandy bottle to give that sincere delight, that mutual interchange of souls so necessary to stamp the extatic rapture; she may, however, prove to those that will drink a glass with her, and has no objection to become as merry as herself, a desireable piece, as she is neither extravagant in her demands, or nice in the choicee of her admirers.