Each gave a duck, then took his luck, Returning to his gun; But bravely to our work we stuck, And bravely to our work we stuck, For many a day, in this here way, Says Bill to me, "Why, we at sea BRITISH SAILORS HAVE A KNACK. Naval Chronicle, Vol. XII. 1804. RITISH sailors have a knack, Of pulling down a Frenchman's jack, 'Gainst any odds, you know, boys. Come three to one, right sure am I, British sailors, when at sea, British sailors love their king, LASH'D TO THE HELM. North Country Ballads, Vol. II. N storms, when clouds obscure the sky, The wind and rain, My ardent passion prove; When rocks appear on every side, But should the gracious powers be kind, I'd tempt again, But tender joys improve; And think on nought but love. THE LUGGER. IST! list to the storm, see the dark The breakers are foaming, the billows Hark! hark! now the minute gun booms o'er the wave, 'Tis a signal for help from the bold to the brave. Bear a hand, my brisk lads! See! a sail through the mist, Standing up 'gainst a sea she can never resist; Still wilder the blast, and the sea mountains high, She strikes! my brave hearts, to our lugger we fly! Heave-a-ho! we're afloat, trust your skipper's tried skill, His heart knows no danger, and yours fear no ill. Pull away, pull away, o'er the breakers we ride, Our arms full of strength, and our hearts full of pride! Pull, pull, boys, together, she'll soon make the wreck, And cheer every heart on that storm-stricken deck. See, see, now her mainmast is gone by the board, She rights-pull away, boys, our help quick afford! Now, now, every hand, every heart do its best, And Heaven shall be with us, our toil shall be blest. Stand by, now, my hearts, heave a line from your bow, Be cool, boys, be steady, we are well by you now. Veer away, set the fore-sail, for shore now we run, Hurrah! boys, we've saved them, and our duty is done! DUBLIN BAY. E sail'd away in a gallant bark, But his heart was young, and his spirit light, As he watch'd the shore recede from sight They'd sail'd three days, when a storm arose, Roy Neill, he clasp'd his weeping bride, On the crowded deck of the doom'd ship, Sought the God of the storm in prayer. "She's struck on the rocks!" the sailors cried, In the breath of their wild dismay, And the ship went down, and the fair young bride, That sail'd from Dublin Bay. SONG OF THE SEA-FIGHT IN "AMBOYNA." DRYDEN. |HO ever saw a noble sight, That never view'd a brave sea-fight? |