HAVE oftentimes thought it a wonder

some thing That landsmen should pity us tars, And talk of the hardships that hurricanes

bring, And quicksands, and tempests, and wars : The idiots forget they're as bad off as we;

That they run as much danger, or more In what respect safer than we are at sea,

I'd ask, are your lubbers ashore ?
No, no; when Death comes, we shall all hear him call;
What then? the same Providence watches for all.
Mayn't a tile from a house, or a tumble downstairs,

Or 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


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,

Or while fighting for country and king ? Only just do your duty, you'll find, should Death call, The same merciful Providence watches for all.


E free-born sons, Britannia's boast,
Firm as your rock-surrounded coast;

Ye sov’reigns of the sea;

On ev'ry shore where salt tides roll,
From east to west, from pole to pole,
Fair conquest celebrates your name,
Witness’d aloud by wond'ring Fame,

The lads who dare be free.

Mistake me not, my hearts of oak,
I scorn with Liberty to joke,

Ye sov'reigns of the sea;
Assist, uphold your Church and State,
Your great men good, your good men great,
Awe all abroad, at home unite,
And jolly join in faction's spite,

Then, then, my friends, you're free!


WENT to sea all so fearlessly,

my grog all so carelessly,
By and by, in a brush, I lost my arm,

Tol de rol, de rol de ri!
So, says I,

'Twas well 'twas no worse harm : Man's but man, and there's an end;

And since 'tis so,

E’en let it go :
I ne'er shall lift it 'gainst a friend.

Next, a squall a tempest led off,
Enough to blow the devil's head off;
I got spilt, and that way lost my leg :

Tol de rol, de rol de ri!

So, says I,
I must now be forced to beg:
Well, man's but man, that's all I say;

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 furld!

'Twas fate's decree,

That I mayn't see
The treachery of this wicked world.

Things grew worser still and worser;
Fortune, I had cause to curse her;
Coming home, I found I'd lost my wife :

Tol de rol, de rol de ri!

So, says I,
I'd rather lost my life:

But we're all mortal—she was old;

Then why take on?

If so be she's gone,
I ne'er again shall hear her scold.

Now laid up in Greenwich quarter,
Chatham chest my right, by charter,
Being old, I've lost all but my tongue:

Tol de rol, de rol de ri!

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!


7'VE sailed the salt seas pretty much,

And rough'd it in all weathers,
The French, the Spanish, and the Dutch,

To buckle to their tethers.
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 Benbow and Boscawen,
Of Anson, Pocock, Vernon, Hawke,

And many more then going;

All pretty lads, and brave, and rum,

That seed much noble service; But, Lord, their merit's all a hum,

Compared with Admiral Jervis !

Now there's the famous ninety-two,

That made so great a bustle,
When the Rising Sun and her whole crew

Were all sent down by Russell:
A glorious sight, I've heard them say,

And pretty was the service,
But not like that on Voluntun’s Day,

Led on by valiant Jervis.

Bold Rodney did the kingdom thank

For that brush in the West Indies, And Parker, on the Dogger Bank,

The Dutch beat off the hinges. Van Tromp said how he'd sweep the sea,

'Till Blake show'd him some service; Fine fellows all, but don't tell me

That they're the likes of Jervis !

Howe made the Frenchman dance a tune,

An admiral great and gloriousWitness for that the first of June,

Lord, how he was victorious ! A noble sight as e'er was seen,

And did the country service; But twenty-seven beat with fifteen

None ever did but Jervis !

As for that same equality,

That this battle well was fighted,

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