77 HAPPY JERRY. WAS the pride of all the Thames, For then no mortal soul like me So merrily did jog it, I loved my wife and friend, d'ye see, But times soon changed, I went to sea, In tarnish'd badge and coat so queer, At sea as with a dangerous wound Two friends each help I wanted found Soon after my sweet friend and wife Into this mess had brought me, I'm Peggy, once your soul's desire, Few words are best-I seized their hands, COMELY NED. IVE ear to me, both high and low, Lament a tale, right full of woe, His king and country served had he; His sister Peg her brother loved, His friends, who loved his manly worth, (For none more friends could boast than he,) To mourn now lay aside their mirth For comely Ned that died at sea. Come then and join, with friendly tear, The song that, 'midst of all our glee, We from our hearts chant once a-year For comely Ned that died at sea. TOM TRUELOVE'S KNELL. OM TRUELOVE woo'd the sweetest fair That e'er to tar was kind, Her face was of a beauty rare, More beautiful her mind. His messmates heard, while with delight A sail appear'd-ah, fatal sight!— Must I, cried he, those charms resign, Would they had toll'd, instead of thine, Break heart at once, and there's an end, Sent news, one rough, tempestuous night, Enough, enough, a salt-sea wave WHO CARES? Flubberly landsmen, to gratitude strangers, Still curse their unfortunate stars, Why, what would they say, did they try but the dangers Encounter'd by true-hearted tars? If life's vessel they put 'fore the wind, or they tack her, Or whether bound here or bound there, Give 'em sea-room, good fellowship, grog, and tobacker, Well then, damme, if Jack cares where. Then your stupid old Quidnuncs, to hear them all clatter, The devil can't tell you what for, Though they don't know a gun from a marlinspike, chatter About and concerning of war: While for king, wife, and friend, he's through every thing rubbing, With duty still proud to comply, So he gives but the foes of Old England a drubbing, Why then, damme, if Jack cares why. And then, when good fortune has crown'd his endeavours, And he comes home with shiners galore, Well, what if so be he should lavish his favours On every poor object 'long shore? Since money's the needle that points to good nature, So it goes to relieve a distress'd fellow-creature, Don't you see how some diff'rent thing ev'ry one's twigging, To take the command of a rib? Some are all for the breast-work, and some for the rigging, And some for the cut of her jib. G |