Classic Poem

As Tom laid Moll beneath a Shade,
To play a Game for Maidenhead;
With smacking Buss, and Chuck 'o th' Chin,
The Prologue to the future Scene!
He thus address'd his bowzy Molly ,
Nay, pish, this Coyness is a Folly!
Unwilling? blush? nay, pshaw — my Dear!
My Love, came we for Nothing here?
Alas! quoth she, should I prove fruitful!
You know, at best, that would but suit ill —
Pish, then, if that's thy Care, my Moll ,
There's one Above provides for all —
To which, quoth Sly , upon the Tree,
Your Brats, and you, be Damn'd for me.