1
To you my dear companions accept these lines I pray;
A most impartial trial has been occupied this day.
'Tis from your dying Broughton, to show his wretched fate,
Pray make your reformation before it is too late.

2
The loss of your companion will grieve your hearts full sore,
I know that my fair Ellen will my wretched fate deplore;
Thinking of those happy hours that now are past and gone,
That I, unhappy Broughton, would I had ne'er been born.

3 [not sung]
One day unto St. James's with large and swelling pride,
Each man had a flash woman walking by his side,
And at night we did retire unto some ball or play;
In these unhappy pleasures our time did pass away.

4
Brought up in wicked habits which wrought in me no fear,
How little did I think that my time had been so near;
But now I'm overtaken, and bound, condemned and cast to die,
Exposed a sad example to all those that pass me by.

5
O that I had but gone unto some far and distant clime,
That a gibbet post for Broughton would never have been mine;
But as for such like wishes they are vanity and vain,
Alas, it is but folly and madness to complain.

6
One night to try and slumber I closed my weeping eyes,
I heard a foot approaching which struck me with surprise;
I listened for a moment, a voice made this reply,
’Prepare thyself, Spence Broughton, tomorrow thou must die.’

7 [not sung]
O awful was the messenger, and dismal was the sound,
Like a maniac in distraction I rolled upon the ground;
My tears now flow in torrents, with anguish I am torn,
O poor unhappy Broughton, would I had ne'er been born.

8
Farewell, my wife and children, to you I bid adieu,
I never should have come to this had I stayed at home with you;
But I hope through my Redeemer to gain the happy shore;
Farewell, farewell for ever, Spence Broughton is no more.
Spence Broughton is no more.