And my girl shall breed young sailors, nobly for to face the foe;

Then to country and king,

Fate can no danger bring,

While the tars of Old England sing out Yo, heave ho!

CHARLES DIBDIN.

XXXVI

Fack Robinson

THE perils and the dangers of the voyage past,
And the ship at Portsmouth arrived at last,
The sails all furled, and the anchor cast,
The happiest of the crew was Jack Robinson.
For his Poll he had trinkets and gold galore,
Besides Prize Money quite a store,

And along with the crew, he went ashore,
As Coxwain to the boat, Jack Robinson.

He met with a man, and said, 'I say,
Perhaps you may know one Polly Gray?
She lives somewhere hereabout'; the man said, 'Nay,
I do not, indeed,' to Jack Robinson.

So says Jack to him, 'I have left my ship,
And all my messmates, they gave me the slip,
Mayhap you'll partake of a good can of flip?
For you're a good sort of fellow,' says Jack Robinson.

In a public house, then, they both sat down,
And talked of Admirals of high renown,

And drank as much grog as came to half a crown,
This here strange man, and Jack Robinson.

Then Jack call'd out the reckoning to pay,
The landlady came in, in fine array,

'My eyes and limbs, why here's Polly Gray!

Who'd have thought of meeting here!' says Jack Robinson.

The landlady staggered against the wall,

And said, at first, she didn't know him at all. 'Shiver me,' says Jack, 'why here's a pretty squall, Dn me, don't you know me ? I'm Jack Robinson! Don't you remember this handkerchief you giv'd me! 'Twas three years ago, before I went to sea,

Every day I've looked at it, and then I thought of thee, Upon my soul, I have,' says Jack Robinson.

Says the Lady, says she, 'I have changed my state.' 'Why you don't mean,' says Jack, 'that you've got a mate?

You know you promised-' Says she, 'I could not wait,

For no tidings could I gain of you, Jack Robinson;
And somebody, one day, came up to me and said,
That somebody else, had somewhere read
In some newspaper, as how you were dead.'
'I've not been dead at all,' says Jack Robinson.

Then he turn'd his quid, and finish'd his glass,
Hitch'd up his trousers, 'Alas! alas!
That ever I should live to be made such an ass!
To be bilked by a woman,' says Jack Robinson.
'But to fret and to stew about it's all in vain,
I'll get a ship and go to Holland, France and Spain,
No matter where, to Portsmouth I'll ne'er come again,'
And he was off before you could say, Jack Robinson.

XXXVII

Jack the Guinea-Pig

WHEN the anchor's weigh'd and the ship's unmoored, And the landsmen lag behind, sir,

The sailor joyful skips on board,

And, swearing, prays for a wind, sir:
Towing here,

Yehoing there,

Steadily, readily,

Cheerily, merrily,

Still from care and thinking free,
Is a sailor's life, at sea.

When we sail with a fresh'ning breeze,
And landsmen all grow sick, sir,
The sailor lolls, with his mind at ease,
And the song and the can go quick, sir:

Laughing here,

Quaffing there,

Steadily, &c.

When the wind at night whistles o'er the deep,

And sings to landsmen dreary,

The sailor fearless goes to sleep,

Or takes his watch most cheary :

Boozing here,

Snoozing there,

Steadily, &c.

When the sky grows black and the wind blows hard

And landsmen skulk below, sir,

Jack mounts up to the top-sail yard,
And turns his quid as he goes, sir:
Hawling here,

Bawling there,

Steadily, &c.

6

When the foaming waves run mountains high,
And landsmen cry All's gone', sir,
The sailor hangs 'twixt sea and sky,
And he jokes with Davy Jones, sir!
Dashing here,

Clashing there,
Steadily, &c.

When the ship, d'ye see, becomes a wreck,
And landsmen hoist the boat, sir,
The sailor scorns to quit the deck,
While a single plank 's afloat, sir:
Swearing here,

Tearing there,
Steadily, &c.

XXXVIII

Ye Mariners of England'

YE Mariners of England,

That guard our native seas!

Whose flag has braved a thousand years

The battle and the breeze!

Your glorious standard launch again

To match another foe;

And sweep through the deep,

While the stormy winds do blow!

While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.

The spirits of your fathers

Shall start from every wave

For the deck it was their field of fame,
And Ocean was their grave:
Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell
Your manly hearts shall glow,
As ye sweep through the deep,

While the stormy winds do blow!
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.

Britannia needs no bulwarks,

No towers along the steep; Her march is o'er the mountain-waves, Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below, As they roar on the shore,

When the stormy winds do blow! When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.

The meteor flag of England
Shall yet terrific burn;
Till danger's troubled night depart
And the star of peace return.
Then, then, ye ocean-warriors!
Our song and feast shall flow
To the fame of your name,

When the storm has ceased to blow!