After thus we at sea had miscarried, For to England I came, and got married We know not for what we were born; DIBDIN. ENGLAND, COMMERCE, AND FREEDOM. How blest a life a sailor leads, From clime to clime still ranging; And cheer with hopes to meet again Those friends we've left behind us. Then under snug sail, we laugh at the gale, And though landsmen look pale, never heed 'em ; But toss off a glass to a favourite lass, To old England, Commerce, and Freedom! And when arrived in sight of land, Or safe in port rejoicing, Our ship we moor, our sails we hand, With eager haste the shore we reach, And tripping lightly o'er the beach, When the full-flowing bowl has enlivened the soul, And each bonny lass will drink off a glass Our cargo sold, we chink the share, And if we meet a brother-tar Who wants, we freely give it. And when 'tis gone, to sea for more- Then drink round my boys! 'tis the first of our joys Altered from the American. THE SEA-BIRD'S SONG. On the deep is the mariner's danger, Sees the last bubble burst of his breath? 'Tis the sea-bird, sea-bird, sea-bird, Lone looker on despair The sea-bird, sea-bird, sea-bird, The only witness there. Who watches their course, who so mildly The sea-bird, sea-bird, sea-bird, Who hovers on high o'er the lover, And her who has clung to his neck? Whose wing is the wing that can cover, With its shadow, the foundering wreck? 'Tis the sea-bird, sea-bird, sea-bird, Lone looker on despair The sea-bird, sea-bird, sea-bird, My eye is the light of the billow, My wing on the wake of the wave, My foot on the iceberg has lighted, The sea-bird, sea-bird, sea-bird, The only witness there. JOHN G. C. BRAINARD. HOMEWARD BOUND. HEAD the ship for England! Blithe leap the billows, Merry sings the gale. How many knots a-day?— We've traded with the Yankees, Brazilians, and Chinese; We've laugh'd with dusky beauties Round by Table Bay- That's the sailor's way! Nightly stands the North Star Straight we run for England; When we've drawn our pay;- All about and home again, Tom will to his parents; To hear the fiddles play;— Round the world and home again, That's the sailor's way! WILLIAM ALLINGHAM. THE SAILOR. (A ROMAIC BALLAD.) THOU that hast a daughter For one to woo and wed, Give her to a husband With snow upon his head: Oh, give her to an old man, Though little joy it be, Before the best young sailor That sails upon the sea! U |