And she was condemned to death, and swung for it on Tyburn Tree.
And, Lord! how she cried his name as she jolted on her coffin to the gallows, and when the hangman put the rope round her shuddering little fair neck.

'Oh, John,' screams she, 'John Oxon, God forgive thee! Nay, 'tis God should be forgiven for letting thee to live and me to die like this.' Aye, 'twas a bitter sight! She was so little and so young, and so affrighted.

The hangman could scarce hold her.

I was i' the midst o' the crowd and cried to her to strive to stand still, 'twould be the sooner over.

But that she could not.