Towing here, going 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 mind at ease,
And the song and the can go quick, sir.

Laughing here, quaffing there, &c.

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

And seems to landsmen dreary,
The sailor fearless goes to sleep,
And takes his watch most cheer'ly.-

Boosing here, snoring there, &c.

When the sky grows black, and the wind blows hard,

And landsmen sculk below, sir, Jack mounts up to the topsail yard, And turns his quid as he goes, sir.

Hauling here, bawling there, &c.

gone, sir,

When the foaming waves run mountains high,
And the landsmen


The sailor hangs 'twixt the sea and sky,
And he jokes with Davy Jones, sir.

Dashing here, clashing there, &c.

When the ship, d’ye see, becomes a wreck,

The landsmen hoist the boat, sir, The sailor scorns to quit the deck, While a single plank's afloat, sir,

Swearing here, tearing there, &c.


Roxburghe Ballads.
JOOSE every sail to the breeze,

The course of my vessel improve,
I've done with the toils of the sea,
Ye sailors, I'm bound to



Since Emma is true as she's fair,

My griefs I'll fling all to the wind, 'Tis a pleasing return for my care,

My mistress is constant and kind.

My sails are all fill’d to my dear

What tropic bird swifter can move ? Who cruel, shall hold his career,

That returns to the nest of his love ?

Hoist every sail to the breeze,

Come, shipmates, and join in the song;
Let's drink while our ship cuts the seas,

To the gale that drives us along.



HREE happy years had Ben the sailor

Call’d his loving Nancy, wife,
As he was true, and she no railer,

Both escaped the squalls of strife;

Just from a cruise in haste returning,

Ben to love in transports flew,
But ev'ry joy was changed to mourning,

When he sigh’d the word, Adieu !

All hearts perturbed as the ocean,

Sigh for pledges left behind;
A sail in sight gives new emotion,

Glory fortifies the mind.
Each man of war the foe engages,

Cannonades invade the sky;
Now, now,

the heat of battle rages, Hark! the shouts of victory.

Swift with the news to England sailing,

Britain's genius join'd the strain;
But struck the notes of deep bewailing,

Songs of pity for the slain.
Poor Nancy, with her infants screaming,

Wander'd on the rocky shore;
She ask'd of all, if he were coming,

But her Ben was now no more.

Convulsive sobs each word suppressing,

Fix'd her in a wild despair;
A form so piteous and distressing

Craved a Briton's fost'ring care;
For charity, from heav'n descended,

Long has dwelt in Albion's isle, The sad is sooth’d, the oppress'd befriended,

And want is giv'n fair plenty's smile.


THE British tar no peril knows,

But fearless braves the angry deep ; The ship’s his cradle of repose,

And sweetly rocks him to his sleep;
He, though the raging surges swell,

In his hammock swings,
While the steersman sings,

Steady she goes, all's well.

While on the maintop yard he springs,

An English vessel heaves in view;
He asks, but she no letter brings
From bonny Kate he loved so true;
Then sighs he for his native dell,

Yet to hope he clings
While the steersman sings,

Steady she goes, all's well.

The storm is past, the battle o'er,

Nature and man repose in peace;
Then homeward bound, on England's shore,
He hopes for joys that ne'er will cease;
His Kate's sweet voice those joys foretell,

And his big heart springs,
While the steersman sings,

Steady she goes, all's well.


JOSEPH EDWARD CARPENTER. “ Bill,” cries one fellow to another, “look out, here comes •Whistling Dick!"" '- Vide Russell's Correspondence.

O fear we jolly sailors know,”

Says Bo’s'n Bill to me,
“ Ashore let's go, to drub the foe,

Since they won't come to we;
Let's lend the soger boys a hand,

To sink them foreign craft;
My eyes, if they to sea would stand,

We'd rake them fore and aft.”

“ Agreed,” says I, ashore we went,

And then began the fun;
When British tars, on mischief bent,

First made the Rooshans run.
Agreed,” says I, ashore we went,

And then began the fun;
When British tars, on mischief bent,

First made the Rooshans run.

Secure beneath the fortress walls,

Their crews all idle lay,
Instead of looking out for squalls,

And earning of their pay.
We thought it sport as from each port,

The shells flew pretty thick ;
“My eyes,” says Bill, “ look out, my boys,

For here comes Whistling Dick.”

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