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Though poor, some will take her in tow, to defend
her, And again, some are all for the rich; As to I, so she's young, her heart honest and tender,
Why then, damme, if Jack cares which.
Why now, if they go for to talk about living,
My eyes—why a little will serve:
And who in this nation can starve?
The wind on the beam or the bow,
Why then, damme, if Jack cares how.
And then for a bring-up, d’ye see, about dying,
On which such racket they keep,
Or find out your grave in the deep ?
Death will bring us all up—and what then ?-
Why then, damme, if Jack cares when.
HY should the sailor take a wife,
Since he was born to roam, And lead at sea a wand'ring life,
Far from his friends and home ? When fate comes riding
the gale, And dreadful hurricanes assail
The tar's astonish'd ear,
But for his Nancy dear?
For battle should the ship be clear’d,
As death when all is still,.
Who sighs, and makes his will: “My watch, my 'bacco pouch I give To Tom for her, should I not live,
To my fond heart so near.”
But for his Nancy dear.
When hissing flames now reach the sky,
Now in the ocean dip,
Grasp the devoted ship;-
a yawning watery grave
Threats, could he calm appear ?
But for his Nancy dear ?
When shipwreck'd many leagues from home,
The remnant of the crew
Whom well they loved and knew :
Their hospitable cheer-
But for his Nancy dear?
Through dạnger and delay,
To beg his vagrant way;
In accents sweet and clear,
He taught his Nancy dear.
HEN once the din of war's begun
That heroes so delight in, Armies are conquer'd, cities won,
By bloodshed and brave fighting. The trumpet sounds! the columns march,
Friends from dear friends are sunder'd; Prepared is the triumphal arch,
And the fall’n foe are plunder'd.
Pourtrays a marking feature:
Exceeding mortal nature,
A sinking fellow-creature.
In equal balance to maintain
The barriers of each nation,
Slaughter should thin creation.
Each tries to save from slavery;
Walk clemency and bravery.
A truly marking feature:
That rushes, &c.
F ever a sailor was fond of good sport
'Mongst the girls, why that sailor was I; Of all sizes and sorts, I'd a wife at each
port; But when that I saw'd Polly Ply, I hail'd her my lovely, and gov'd her a kiss,
And swore to bring up once for all, And from that time Black Barnaby spliced us to this,
I've been constant and true to my Poll.
And yet now all sorts of temptations I've stood,
For I afterwards sail'd round the world,
Wherever our sails were unfurld:
All ready one's heart to o’erhaul, “ Don't you go to love me, my good girl," said I,
I've sworn to be constant to Poll."
I met with a squaw out at India beyond,
All in glass and tobacco-pipes drest; What a dear, pretty monster! so kind and so fond,
That I ne'er was a moment at rest; With her bobs at her nose, and her quaw, quaw, quaw,
All the world like a Bartlemy doll, Says I, “ You, Miss Copperskin, just hold your jaw;
I've sworn to be constant to Poll.”
Then one near Sumatra, just under the line,
As fond as a witch in a play,
Or by poison I'll take you away. “ Curse your kindness,” says I, “but you can't
frighten me, You don't catch a gudgeon this haul, If I do take your ratsbane, why then, do you see,
I shall die true and constant to Poll.”
But I’scaped from them all, tawny, lily, and black,
And merrily weather'd each storm, And, my neighbours to please, full of wonders came
back, But, what's better, I'm grown pretty warm.