MISS BAILEY’S GHOST.

A Captain bold, in Halifax, who dwelt in country quarters,
Seduced a maid, who hang’d herself, on morning, in her garters,
His wicked conscience smited him, he lost his stomach daily,
He took to drinking ratafee, and thought upon Miss Bailey.
            Oh, Miss Bailey! unfortunate Miss Bailey.

One night betimes he went to rest, for he had caught a fever,
Says he, “I am a handsome man, but I’m a gay deceiver;”
His candle just at twelve o’clock began to burn quite palely,
A ghost stepp’d up to his bed side, and said, “behold Miss Bailey.”
            Oh, Miss Bailey! unfortunate Miss Bailey.

“Avaunt, Miss Bailey” then he cried, “your face looks white and mealy,”
“Dear Captain Smith,” the ghost replied, “you’ve used me ungenteeely;
The Crowner’s Quest goes hard with me, because I’ve acted frailly,
And parson Biggs won’t bury me, though I am dead Miss Bailey.”
            Oh, Miss Bailey! unfortunate Miss Bailey.

“Dear Corpse,” said he, “since you and I accounts must once for all close,
I’ve really got a one pound note in my regimental small clothes;
“‘Twill bribe the sexton for your grave,”—The ghost then vanish’d gaily,
Crying, “Bless you, wicked Captain Smith, remember poor Miss Bailey.”
            Oh, Miss Bailey! unfortunate Miss Bailey.

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