THE BEST BOWER-ANCHOR. HAVE oftentimes thought it a wondersome thing That landsmen should pity us tars, And talk of the hardships that hurricanes And quicksands, and tempests, and wars: No, no; when Death comes, we shall all hear him call; Mayn't a tile from a house, or a tumble downstairs, Ör a fall from a horse, or a blow, Or a surfeit, you know, take him back unawares, More specious, when groggy or so? Mayn't fevers, and agues, and gout, and they things, Prove than battles more worse or as bad? We hearties at sea are as happy as kings, We've no sickness;-besides, if we had, Death will come when he will; what then? Let him call; The same gen'rous Providence watches for all. We all of grim Death shall some time make the port: He'll be sure to fetch up our lee-way; And little it matters if life's long or short, Whether seven years hence, or to-day. We are all born to die; there's no harm to be said, "Tis he who dies best is the thing; And I ax which is noblest-to die in one's bed, YE FREE-BORN SONS. E free-born sons, Britannia's boast, On ev'ry shore where salt tides roll, Mistake me not, my hearts of oak, And jolly join in faction's spite, Then, then, my friends, you're free! WELL IT'S NO WORSE. WENT to sea all so fearlessly, So, says I, "Twas well 'twas no worse harm: Man's but man, and there's an end; E'en let it go: I ne'er shall lift it 'gainst a friend. Next, a squall a tempest led off, So, says I, I must now be forced to beg: So in this plight, If I can't fight, For certain I can't run away. So, as if Old Nick was in it, Something happened every minute, Till, at last, poor I! they doused my glims: Tol de rol, de rol de ri! So, says I, Why, I've lost my eyes and limbs: Well, the sails of life by time are furl'd! "Twas fate's decree, That I mayn't see The treachery of this wicked world. Things grew worser still and worser; So, says I, I'd rather lost my life: But we're all mortal-she was old; If so be she's gone, I ne'er again shall hear her scold. Now laid up in Greenwich quarter, So, says I, "Twas not so when I was young: But, then, says I again, you dunce! Be fear afar From every tar; Damme, a man can die but once! JERVIS FOR EVER. I'VE sailed the salt seas pretty much, And in each voyage I must need, You see, have known some service; But all I've know'd and all I've seed Is now outdone by Jervis! You've heard, I s'pose, the people talk Of Anson, Pocock, Vernon, Hawke, All pretty lads, and brave, and rum, Now there's the famous ninety-two, When the Rising Sun and her whole crew But not like that on Voluntun's Day, Bold Rodney did the kingdom thank Howe made the Frenchman dance a tune, As for that same equality, That this battle well was fighted, |