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Inscribed in pen and brown ink, upper right: "333"; lower right: "33<4>3"; inscribed on verso in graphite, lower right: "#148"

Lettered below image: "The Market Lass. | Published 7th Novr. 1794 by Rt. Laurie & Js. Whittle. No.53 Fleet Street, London"; below image: "Tho 'my dad I must own is but poor, | His Cot can each comfort supply, | The vine tendril curls round his door, | and streamlets meander anigh; | Health reigns and rewards daily toil, | I rise at the lark's early song, | And meeting my swain at the stile, | To market we trip it along. | Sweet scented as blossoms in May, | Butter-prints ny neat basket o'erspread, | Milk-white chickens, cream-cheese, I display, | And I'll vouch ev'ry egg is new laid. | To partake in my health-earning toil, | My swain holds it ne'er can be wrong, | Bears the weight of my load with a smile. | As to market we trip it along. | Arriv'd, soon I purchasers view. | Sell my stock very oft in a trice. | Reap the produce to industry due. | But ne'er charge above the market-price | Returning, the way we beguile | With a tale, or a joke, or a song, | Snatch a warm parting kiss at the stile, | To our cot then I trip it along."