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Her rigging's tight for every tack,
Her plank without a starter;
Her sheathing Magna Charta.
How gallantly she bears her port,
The ocean's pride and dread;
Adorns her glorious head;
In war she is no starter;
Secured by Magna Charta!
EN BLOCK was a vet’ran of naval renown,
And renown was his only reward ;
And he'd laugh at the cannon’s loud roar, When the death-dealing broadside made worm's
meat of men, And the scuppers were streaming with gore.
Nor could a lieutenant's poor stipend provoke
The staunch tar to despise scanty grog ; For his biscuit he'd break, turn his quid, crack his joke,
And drown care in a jorum of grog.
Thus, year after year, in a subaltern state,
Poor Ben for his king fought and bled, Till time had unroof'd all the thatch from his pate,
And the hair from his temples had fled.
When on humbly saluting, with sinciput bare,
A First Lord of the Admiralty once, Quoth his lordship, “ Lieutenant, you've lost all your
hair, Since I last had a peep at your sconce." Why, my lord,” replied Ben, “it with truth may
be said, While a bald pate I long have stood under, There have so many captains walk'd over my head,
That to see me quite scalp'd 'twere no wonder."
Music by SHIELD.
THEN Steerwell heard me first impart
Our brave commander's story, With ardent zeal, his youthful heart
Swell’d high for naval glory. Resolved to gain a valiant name,
For bold adventures eager, When first a little cabin-boy, on board the Fame,
He would hold on the jigger, While ten jolly tars, with musical Joe, Heave the anchor a-peak, singing, Yo, heave ho!
To hand top-gallant sail next he learn'd
With quickness, care, and spirit,
Whose gen'rous master then discern'd
And prized his dawning merit.
When storms convulsed the ocean,
Which mark'd him for promotion.
Clear the buoy, make the pier.
Hard a port, helm-a-lee !
For valour, skill, and worth renown'd,
with fame and fortune crown'd,
Still bravely will defend her;
He'll prove his heart is tender;
To poor or wealthy, friend or foe;
All the fleet drink his health,
To a brave conquer'd foe.
TO MY MESSMATES AT SEA.
RAVE Oakum, Mainbrace, honest Jack,
Mat Midships, too, was there,
Could hand well, reef, and steer;
We trollă a merry glee;
To our messmates drank at sea.
Sall Spriggins, who was there, d’ye mind,
And she was all my pride,
And we sat side by side,
When you are far from me.”
To our messmates out at sea.
A thousand other toasts we gave,
With mirth our cabins ring;
The navy! George our king!”
It somehow seem'd to me
To my messmates drink at sea.
Love of our isle my heart commands,
For Briton's fame I burn,
And steps from stem to stern;
But douse life's colours free; Yet while at anchor here I'll drink
To my messmates out at sea.
THE SAILOR'S ADIEU.
ISTRESS me with those tears no more;
One kiss, my girl, and then adieu ! The last boat destined for the shore
Waits, dearest girl, alone for you. Soon, soon, before the light winds borne,
Shall I be sever'd from your sight; You left the lonely hours to mourn,
And weep through many a stormy night.
While far along the restless deep,
In trim array the ship shall steer, Your form remembrance still shall keep,
Your work affection still revere : And with the distance from your eyes,
My love for you shall be increased; As to the pole the needle flies,
And farthest off still varies least.
While round the bowl the jovial crew
Shall sing of triumphs on the main,