Broadside ballad entitled 'An Account of the Life and Actions of Mrs M'Leod'

Transcription

AN
ACCOUNT
O F
The Life and Actions of Mrs. M'Leod.

Nemo sine crimine vivit.

Since nought can satisfy the Wrath,
Of these my Foes, but only Death,
Before that I the World leave,
My Confession ye's get, I do believe ;
It wad be tedious to narrate,
Each single Sin I did create,
Because that they seem to be more,
Than Sand that is on the Sea Shore ;
That Sin in which I had maist Skill,
It was to counterfit a Bill,
Yea, many one I counterfit,
When very few did know of it.
For, or quite run out, was the Bill,
The Money I had ready still :
So continually, this Life liv'd I,
For the which Cause I'm now to die.

If that I rightly do conceive,
My second Sin was to deceive,
For I had trafeking in a Ware,
Which helpt to bring them in my Snare,
Glass, Brandy, Wine, also Timber,
To a' sic Wares I plaid the Limber.   
My main drift was, folks to defraud,
Or Good I even being void.

The thrid Sin, I am very sure,
It was with Men to play the Whore,
And now I plainly will you tell,
I did not always whore my sell,
Indeed sometimes the Pimp I plaid,
Then I tell you from what's been said,
Them that's a Whore is whiles a Thief,
Thus I in Wickedness was brief.
That I did cheat, whore, steal, and lie,
And did drink up Iniquitie,
As e're the Ox, did drink Water,
For which at length I'm found a fater:
This is come from my Hand express,
And all that's here I do confess,
Likewise I do desire all them,
That forges Bills in others Name,
For to leave off, or then Expect,
As well's me, to hing by the Neck.   
And I now plainly do you tell,
It is the patent way to Hell.
Likewise all you that plays the Whore,
Take this Advice from me, for sure,
That tho' I've been a wicked Woman,
Mind I you tell the Time is coming,
If you don't leave your way of Sin,
And that curst way in Which you'r in
Your End like mine, may come to be,
For to be hanged on a Tree.
For I tell you, Shame always must,
Attend all ungoverned Lust.
Them that their Neighbour do defraud,
Of Goodness seems for to be void,
For tho' that I confess my sell,
And to my Shame I do it tell,
That a' my way was that I liv'd.
For I with Cheets and Thieves coneiv'd.
Till I by Justice was pursu'd,
And to be hanged was allowed.

F I N I S.

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