HE wind was hush'd, the storm was over,

Unfurld was every flowing sail, From toil released, when Dick of Dover

Went with his messmates to regale : All danger's o'er, cried he, my neat hearts,

Drown care then in the smiling can,
Come, bear a hand, let's toast our sweethearts,

And first I'll give you buxom Nan.

She's none of those who are always gigging,

And stem and stern made up of art;
One knows a vessel by her rigging,

Such ever slight a constant heart;
With straw hat and pink streamers flowing,

How oft to meet me has she ran;
While for dear life would I be rowing,

To meet with smiles my buxom Nan.

Jack Jollyboat went to the Indies,

To see him stare when he came back, The girls were all off of the hinges,

His Poll was quite unknown to Jack : Tant masted all, to see who's tallest,

Breastworks, top-ga’ant sails, and a fan; Messmate, cried I, more sail than ballast;

Ah! still give me my buxom Nan.

None in life's sea can sail more quicker,

To show her love or serve a friend :

But hold, I'm preaching o'er my liquor;

This one word then, and there's an end; Of all the wenches whatsomever,

I say, then, find me out who can, One half so tight, so kind, so clever,

Sweet, trim, and neat, as buxom Nan.


JACK dances and sings, and is always con

tent, In his vows to his lass he'll ne'er fail


His anchor's a-trip when his money's all spent

And this is the life of a sailor.

Alert in his duty he readily flies,

Where the winds the tired vessel are Alinging, Though sunk to the sea-gods, or toss’d to the skies,

Still Jack is found working and singing.

'Longside of an enemy, boldly and brave,

He'll with broadside on broadside regale her; Yet he'll sigh to the soul o'er that enemy's grave,

So noble's the mind of a sailor.

Let cannons roar loud, burst their sides let the bombs,

Let the winds a dread hurricane rattle, The rough and the pleasant he takes as it comes,

And laughs at the storm and the battle.

In a fostering Power while Jack puts his trust,

As Fortune comes, smiling he'll hail her; Resign’d, still, and manly, since what must be must

And this is the mind of a sailor.

Though careless and headlong, if danger should press,

And rank’d’mongst the free list of rovers, Yet he'll melt into tears at a tale of distress,

And prove the most constant of lovers. To rancour unknown, to no passion a slave,

Nor unmanly, nor mean, nor a railer, He's gentle as mercy, as fortitude brave

And this is a true English sailor.


F, bold and brave, thou canst not bear

Thyself from all thou lov'st to tear-
If while winds war, and billows roll,

A spark of fear invade thy soul-
If thou’rt appallid when cannons roar-
I prithee, messmate, stay ashore;

There, like a lubber,

Whine and blubber,
Still for thy ease and safety busy,

Nor dare to come
Where honest Tom,
And Ned, and Nick,
And Ben, and Phil,
And Jack, and Dick,

And ob, and Bill,
All weathers sing, and drink the swizzy.

If, shouldst thou lose a limb in fight,
She who made up thy heart's delight
(Poor recompense

that thou art kind)
Shall prove inconstant as the wind
If such hard fortune thou’dst deplore,
I prithee, messmate, stay ashore;

There, like a lubber, &c.

If, pris'ner in a foreign land,
No friend, no money at command,
That man, thou trusted hadst, alone
All knowledge of thee should disown-
If this should vex thee to the core,
I prithee, messmate, stay ashore;

There, like a lubber, &c.


I'VE sail'd round the world without fear or

display, I've seen the wind foul, and I've seen the

wind fair, I've been wounded, and shipwreck’d, and trick'd of my

pay, But a brave British sailor should never despair.


When in a French prison I chanced for to lie,

With no light from the heavens, and scarce any In a dungeon, instead of in battle, to die,

Was dismal, I own, but I did not despair.

But, Lord, this is nothing—my poor upper

works Got shatter'd, and I was obliged to repair ; I've been shot by the French, and a slave ʼmong the

Turks, But a brave British sailor should never despair.

But for all these misfortunes, I'd yet cut a dash,

Laid snug up my timbers, and never know care, If the agent had not run away with the cash,

And so many brave fellows plunged into despair.

So coming 'longside of our bold royal tar

I told him the rights on't-for why should I care ? Of my wrongs, and my hardships, and wounds in the

war, And if how he would right me, I should not despair.

Says his highness, says he, such ill-treatment as thine Is a shame, and henceforward thy fortune's my

care ; So now, blessings on him! sing out me and mine,

And thus British seamen should never despair.

So straightway he got it made into a law

That each tar of his rhino should have his full share, And so agents, d'ye see, may coil up their slack jaw,

For the duke is our friend, and we need not despair.

Then push round the grog, though we face the whole

Let our royal tar’s pennant but fly in the air,
And the sails of our navy again be unfurl'd-
We'll strike wond'ring nations with awe and


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