GOOD people all, with one accord,
Lament for Madam Blaize,
Who never wanted a good word
From those who spoke her praise.
The needy seldom pass'd her door,
And always found her kind:
She freely lent to all the poor-
Who left a pledge behind.
She strove the neighbourhood to please,
With manners wond'rous winning;
And never follow'd wicked ways-
Unless when she was sinning.
At church, in silks and satins new,
With hoop of monstrous size :
She never slumber'd in her pew
But when she shut her eyes.
Her love was sought, I do aver,
By twenty beaux and more;
The king himself has follow'd her —
When she has walk'd before.
But now her wealth and finery fled,
Her hangers-on cut short all :
The doctors found, when she was dead-
Her last disorder mortal.
Let us lament, in sorrow sore,
For Kent-Street well may say,
That had she liv'd a twelve-month more
She had not died to-day.
Printed by Thomas Richardson, Derby.