Modern Street Ballads



See the scaffold it is mounted,
And the doomed ones do appear,
Seemingly borne wan with sorrow,
Grief and anguish, pain and care.
They cried, the moment is approaching,
When we, together, must leave this life,
And no one has the least compassion
On Frederick Manning and his wife.

Maria Manning came from Sweden,
Brought up respectably, we hear,
And Frederick Manning came from Taunton,
In the county of Somersetshire.
Maria lived with noble ladies,
In ease and splendour and delight,
But on one sad and fatal morning,
She was made Frederick Manning’s wife.

She first was courted by O’Connor,
Who was a lover most sincere,
He was possessed of wealth and riches,
And loved Maria Roux most dear.
But she preferred her present husband.
As it appeared, and with delight,
Slighted sore Patrick O’Connor,
And was made Frederick Manning’s wife.

And when O’Connor knew the story,
Down his cheeks rolled floods of tears,
He beat his breast and wept in sorrow,
Wrung his hands and tore his hair;
Maria, dear, how could you leave me?
Wretched you have made my life,
Tell me why do you deceive me,
For to be Fred Manning’s wife?

At length they all were reconciled,
And met together night and day,
Maria, by O’Connor’s riches,
Dressed in splendour fine and gay.
Though married, yet she corresponded,
With O’Connor, all was right,
And oft he went to see Maria,
Frederick Manning’s lawful wife.

At length they plann’d their friend to murder,
And for his company did crave,
The dreadful weapons they prepared,
And in the kitchen dug his grave.
And, as they fondly did caress him,
They slew him—what a dreadful sight,
First they mangled, after robbed him,
Frederick Manning and his wife.

They absconded but were apprehended,
And for the cruel deed were tried,
When placed at the Bar of Newgate,
They both the crime strongly denied.
At length the Jury them convicted,
And doomed them for to leave this life,
The Judge pronounced the awful sentence,
On Frederick Manning, and his wife.

Return, he said, to whence they brought you,
From thence unto the fatal tree,
And there together be suspended,
Where multitudes your fate may see.
Your hours, recollect, are numbered,
You betrayed a friend, and took his life,
For such there’s not one spark of pity,
For Frederick Manning and his wife.

See what numbers are approaching,
To Horse Monger’s fatal tree,
Full of blooming health and vigour,
What a dreadful sight to see.
Old and young, pray take a warning,
Females, lead a virtuous life,
Think upon that fatal morning,
Frederick Manning and his wife.

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