Mary's Ghost
'Twas in the middle of the night,
To sleep young William tried,
When Mary's ghost came stealing in
And stood at his bedside:
Oh William dear, oh William dear,
My rest eternal ceases —
Alas, my everlasting peace
Is broken into pieces!
I thought the last of all my cares
Would end with my last minute;
But though I went to my long home,
I didn't stay long in it.
The body-snatchers they have come,
And made a snatch at me —
It's very hard them kind of men
Won't let a body be!
You thought that I was buried deep,
Quite decent like and chary,
But from her grave in Mary-bone
They've come and boned your Mary!
The arm that used to take your arm
Is took to Doctor Vyse;
And both my legs are gone to walk
The hospital at Guy's.
I vowed that you should have my hand,
But fate gives us denial;
You'll find it there at Doctor Bell's
In spirits and a phial.
As for my feet, the little feet
You used to call so pretty,
There's one, I know, in Bedford Row,
The tother's in the City.
I can't tell where my head is gone,
But Doctor Carpue can;
As for my trunk, it's all packed up
To go by Pickford's van!
I wish you'd go to Mister P.
And save me such a ride —
I don't half like the outside place
They've took for my inside.
The cock it crows — I must be gone!
My William I must part!
But I'll be yours in death, although
Sir Astley has my heart.
Don't go to weep upon my grave,
And think that there I be;
They haven't left an atom there
Of my anatomy.
To sleep young William tried,
When Mary's ghost came stealing in
And stood at his bedside:
Oh William dear, oh William dear,
My rest eternal ceases —
Alas, my everlasting peace
Is broken into pieces!
I thought the last of all my cares
Would end with my last minute;
But though I went to my long home,
I didn't stay long in it.
The body-snatchers they have come,
And made a snatch at me —
It's very hard them kind of men
Won't let a body be!
You thought that I was buried deep,
Quite decent like and chary,
But from her grave in Mary-bone
They've come and boned your Mary!
The arm that used to take your arm
Is took to Doctor Vyse;
And both my legs are gone to walk
The hospital at Guy's.
I vowed that you should have my hand,
But fate gives us denial;
You'll find it there at Doctor Bell's
In spirits and a phial.
As for my feet, the little feet
You used to call so pretty,
There's one, I know, in Bedford Row,
The tother's in the City.
I can't tell where my head is gone,
But Doctor Carpue can;
As for my trunk, it's all packed up
To go by Pickford's van!
I wish you'd go to Mister P.
And save me such a ride —
I don't half like the outside place
They've took for my inside.
The cock it crows — I must be gone!
My William I must part!
But I'll be yours in death, although
Sir Astley has my heart.
Don't go to weep upon my grave,
And think that there I be;
They haven't left an atom there
Of my anatomy.
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