But he said how a sparrow can't founder, d'ye see, Without orders that come down below;

And a many fine things, that proved clearly to me That Providence takes us in tow:

For, says he, do you mind me, let storms e'er so oft
Take the top-sails of sailors aback,

There's a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft,
To keep watch for the life of poor Jack.

I said to our Poll, for, d'ye see, she would cry
When last we weigh'd anchor for sea,
What argufies sniv'lling and piping your eye?
Why, what a d-d fool you must be!

Can't you see the world's wide, and there's room for us all,

Both for seamen and lubbers ashore? And if to old Davy I go, my dear Poll,

Why, you never will hear of me more:
What then? all's a hazard-come don't be so soft,
Perhaps I may, laughing, come back;
For, d'ye see, there's a cherub sits smiling aloft,
To keep watch for the life of poor Jack.

D'ye mind me, a sailor should be every inch
All as one as a piece of the ship,

And with her brave the world, without offering to flinch,
From the moment the anchor's a trip;

As for me, in all weathers, all times, sides, and ends, Nought's a trouble from duty that springs;

For my heart is my Poll's, and my rhino's my friend's, And as for my life, 'tis the King's.

Even when my time comes, ne'er believe me so soft
As for grief to be taken aback :

For the same little cherub that sits up aloft,
Will look out a good berth for poor Jack!

THE GREENWICH PENSIONER.

WAS in the good ship Rover
I sail'd the world around,
And for three years and over
I ne'er touch'd British ground:

At length in England landed,

I left the roaring main,

Found all relations stranded,
And went to sea again.

That time bound straight to Portugal,
Right fore and aft we bore;
But when we made Cape Ortugal,
A gale blew off the shore:
She lay, so did it shock her,
A log upon the main,

Till, saved from Davy's locker,
We stood to sea again.

Next in a frigate sailing,
Upon a squally night,
Thunder and lightning hailing
The horrors of the fight:
My precious limb was lopp'd off,
I, when they'd eased my pain,
Thank'd God I was not popp'd off,
And went to sea again.

Yet still I am enabled

To bring up in life's rear,

Although I am disabled,
And lie in Greenwich tier;
The King, God bless his royalty,
Who saved me from the main,
I'll praise with love and loyalty,
But ne'er to sea again.

THE SIGNAL TO ENGAGE.

HE signal to engage shall be
A whistle and a hollow,

Be one and all but firm, like me,
And conquest soon will follow.
You, Gunnel, keep the helm in hand-
Thus, thus, boys! steady, steady!
Till right a-head you see the land,
Then, soon as we are ready,
The signal, &c.

Keep, boys, a good look-out, d'ye hear!
"Tis for Old England's honour;
Just as you brought your lower tier
Broadside to bear upon her,
The signal, &c.

All hands, then, lads, the ship to clear;
Load all your guns and mortars;
Silent as death th' attack prepare,
And, when you're all at quarters,
The signal, &c.

WHILE UP THE SHROUDS.

HILE up the shrouds the sailor goes,
Or ventures on the yard,

The landsman, who no better knows,
Believes his lot is hard;

But Jack with smiles each danger meets,
Casts anchor, heaves the log,
Trims all the sails, belays the sheets,
And drinks his can of grog.

When mountains high the waves that swell
The vessel rudely bear,

Now sinking in a hollow dell,

Now quiv'ring in the air,

Bold Jack, &c.

When waves 'gainst rocks and quicksands roar,
You ne'er hear him repine,
Freezing on Greenland's icy shore,

Or burning near the Line,

Bold Jack, &c.

If to engage they give the word,

To quarters all repair,

While splinter'd masts go by the board,

And shot sings through the air,

Bold Jack, &c.

THE GOOD SHIP THE KITTY.

SAIL'D in the good ship the Kitty,
With a smart blowing gale and rough

sea,

Left my Polly, the lads call so pretty, Safe here at an anchor-Yo, Yea!

She blubber'd salt tears when we parted,
And cried-" Now be constant to me!"
I told her not to be down-hearted,
So up went the anchor-Yo, Yea!

And from that time, no worse nor no better,
I've thought on just nothing but she;
Nor could grog nor flip make me forget her,
She's my best bower-anchor-Yo, Yea!

When the wind whistled larboard and starboard,
And the storm came on weather and lea,
The hope I with her should be harbour'd
Was my cable and anchor-Yo, Yea!

And yet, my boys, would you believe me?
I return'd with no rhino from sea;
Mistress Polly would never receive me,
So again I heaved anchor-Yo, Yea!