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OH! FIRM AS OAK.

Music by BISHOP.

H ! firm as oak, and free from care,

The sailor holds his heart at sea, If she he loves his cabin share,

And Cupid page to Neptune be. Come night's deep noon, and ne'er a moon,

Nor star aloft a watch to keep,
The tar can be gay as landsmen in day,
With a cheering glass, and a smiling lass.

While boon the wind blows,
And smooth the tide flows,
And the ship steady goes,
Still steady, steady, steady,

Through the boundless deep.

When wintry gales blow bleak alarms,

In turn he mounts the chilly deck; But watch relieved, his Susan's charms

All thoughts but those of pleasure check.
Come night's deep noon, and ne'er a moon,

Nor star aloft a watch to keep,
The tar can be gay as landsmen in day,
With a cheering glass, and a smiling lass.

While boon the wind blows,
And smooth the tide flows,
And the ship steady goes,
Still steady, steady, steady,

Through the boundless deep.

ROCK'D IN THE CRADLE OF THE DEEP.

Music by Knight.

JOCK'D in the cradle of the deep,

I lay me down in peace to sleep;
Secure I rest upon the wave,

For thou, O Lord, hast power to save.
I know thou wilt not slight my call,
For thou dost mark the sparrow's fall;
And calm and peaceful is my sleep,
Rock'd in the cradle of the deep.

When in the dead of night I lay
And gaze upon the trackless way-
The star-bespangled heav'nly scroll,
The boundless waters as they roll-
I feel thy wond'rous power to save
From perils of the stormy wave;
And, rock'd in the cradle of the deep,
I calmly rest and soundly sleep.

And such the trust that still was mine,
Though storm-winds swept across the brine,
Or though the tempest's furious breath
Roused me from sleep to wreck and death!
In ocean cave still safe with thee

of immortality;
And calm and peaceful is my sleep,
Rock'd in the cradle of the deep.

The germ

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DIEU, adieu ! my native shore
Adieu, my gallant sailor! obey thy duty's

call
Again the willing trump of fame
Ah, hark! the signals round the coast

All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd
And did you not hear of a jolly young waterman
An honest tar and fresh from sea
A plague of those musty old lubbers
A sailor and an honest heart
A sailor's life's a life of woe
A sailor's love is void of art
As a sailor's all one as a piece of the ship
As pensive one night in my garret I sate
A thousand miles from land are we
At Wapping I landed, and call’d to hail Mog
Avert yon omen, gracious Heaven
A voyage at sea, and all its strife
A wet sheet and a flowing sea
Behold! how changed is yonder ship .
Ben Backstay loved the gentle Anna
Ben Block was a vet'ran of naval renown
Be the great twenty-first of October recorded
Bleak was the morn when William left his Nancy
Blow, Boreas, blow! thy surly winds.
Blow high, blow low, let tempests tear
Brave Oakum, Mainbrace, honest Jack
Britannia's name, from age to age
British sailors have a knack
By the friends we have lost-by the smile we can never
Cease, rude Boreas, blustering railer .
Cheer up, cheer up, my mother dear
Come, all hands ahoy to the anchor

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Come, all ye jolly sailors bold
Come all you brave sailors.
Come, busk you gallantlie
Come, bustle, bustle, drink about
Come cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer
Come, come, my lads! the war is o'er
Come, if you dare, our trumpets sound
Come, listen to a seaman's ditty
Come, messmates, rejoice! for old England so glorious
Come, never seem to mind it
Come, sailors, be filling the can.
Come sing, come sing, of the great sea-king
Daddy Neptune, one day, to Freedom did say
Dearly as the stream that guides its vital motion
Deep in the Orlop's darksome shade
Deserted by the waning moon
Dick Dock, a tar at Greenwich moor'a
Distress me with those tears no more.
Drear, dark, and dreadful low'red the sky
Duke William and a nobleman
D'ye mind me? I once was a sailor
Escaped with life, in tatters
Far, far upon the sea.
Farewell, old England's shores
For England, when, with fav'ring gale
Give ear to me, both high and low
Go patter to lubbers and swabs, d'ye see
Hark! the boatswain hoarsely bawling
He sail'd away in a gallant bark
Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling
How gallantly, how merrily
How happy are we now the wind is abaft
I be one of they sailors who think 'tis no lie
If a landsman would know the true creed of a tar
If, bold and brave, thou canst not bear
If ever a sailor was fond of good sport
If lubberly landsmen, to gratitude strangers
If, my hearty, you'd not like a lubber appear
If tars of their money are lavish
If the good old maxim's true
If 'tis true what wise ones tell us
I have oftentimes thought it a wondersome thing
I'm a tough true-hearted sailor
I'm for Tom Tiller's golden maxim
In a vessel of my own I have oft ta’en a trip
In either eye a lingering tear
In May fifteen hundred and eighty-eight

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