I'll give, cry'd little Jack, my Poll,

Sailing in comely state,
Top-ga’nt-sail she is so tall,

She looks like a first rale.
Ah! would she take her Jack in tow,

A voyage for life throughout,
No better birth I'd wish to know :

Then push the grog about.
I'll give, cried I, my charming Nan,

Trim, handsome, neat, and tight,
What joy, so neat a ship to man!

Oh! she's my heart's delight.
So well she bears the storms of life,

I'd sail the world throughout,
Brave ev'ry toil for such a wife:
Then push the grog

about. Thus to describe Poll, Peg, or Nan,

Each his best manner tried, Till summon'd by the empty can,

They to their hammocks bied: Yet still did they their vigils keep,

Though the huge can was out; For in soft visions gentle sleep,

Still push'd the grog about.

HEN Sol from the east had illumind the

And gilded the lawns and the riv'lets so clear,
Į rose from my tent, and like Richard I calld
Formy horse, and my hounds, too, loudly I bawl'd.


Hark forward, my boys, Billy Meadows he cry'd: No sooner he spoke, but old Reynard he spy'd; Over-joy'd at the sight, we began for to skip; Tontaron went the horis,and sınack went the whip. Tom Bramble scour'd forth; when almost to his

chin, O'erleaping a ditch-by the lord he leap'd in ; When, just as it happ'd, but the sly master Ren, Was sneakingly hast’ning to make to his den. Then away we pursu'd, brake, covert and wood : Not quickset, nor thickset, our pleasure withstood; Sobo! master Reynard-Jack Rivers, he cry'd; Old Ren, you shall die, Daddy Hawthorn reply'd. All gay as the lark the green woodlands we trac'd, While the merry-ton'd horn inspir’d as we chas'd; No longer poor Reynard his strength could he

boast, To the bounds he knock'd under and gave up

ghost. The sports of the field, whien concluded and o'er, We sound the born back again over the inoor; At night take the glass, and most cheerily sing, The fox-hunters round, not forgetting the king.


You may do as you will, but I'l-fing away

I'll sport with the swains, and I'll toy with the fair;
For joys yet unknown I inay find springing there,
For joys yet unknown I may find springing there;

And 'tis better by half
Love and nectar to quaff:
P 3


All the days of my life thus I'll frolic and laugh,
All the days of my life thus I'll frolic and laugh.
Till lately there liv'd not so wretched an elf:
I tended my flocks, and sought nothing but pelf,
Car'd little for others, but much for myself.

But 'tis better by half, &c.

But wishes for more are all foolish and vain,
And thought for to-morrow briugę nothing but

Enjoying to-day I shall find the best gain :

For 'tis better by half, &c.

Come over to me, all ye gay blooming throng,
And take it the way to be blest the year long,
Is to welcome sweet love, wine, and soul-cheering

And 'tis better by half, &c.

Then care, with his wrinkles, I give to the wind;
To mirth from this moment my heart is inclin'd,
I'm sure of my bliss, for the nymphs will be kind ;

More happy by half,

Love and nectar to quaff; All the days of my life thus I'll frolic and laugh.

"Ta post meridian, half past four,

By signal I from Nancy parted; At six slie linger'd on the shore,

With up-litt hands and broken hearted;


Al sev’n, while tight’ning the fore-stay,

I saw her faint, or else'ıwas fancy; At eight we all got under weigh,

And bade a long adieu to Nancy.

Night came, and now eight bells had rung,

When careless sailors, ever cheery, On the mid-watch so jovial sung,

With tempers labour cannot weary. I, little to their inirth inclin'd,

While tender thoughts rush'd on my fancy, And my warm sighs increas'd the wind,

Look'd on the moon, and thought on Nancy.

And now arriv'd that jovial night,

When ev'ry true-bred tar carouses, When o'er the grou all hands delight, To toast their sweet-hearts and their

sponses. Round went the can, the mirth, the glee,

While tender wishes fill’d cach fancy; And, when in turn it came to me,

I heav'd a sigh and toasted Nancy.

Next morn a storm came on at four;

At six the elements in inotion Plung'd me and three poor

sailors more,
Ileadlong into the foaming ocean.
L'oor wretches, they soon found their graves;

For me, it may be only fancy,
But love seem'd to forbid the waves

To snatch me from the arms of Nancy,


Scarce the foul hurricane was clear'd,

Scarce winds and waves had ceas'd to rattle, When a bold enemy appeard,

And dauntless we prepard for battle. And now,

while some lov'd friend or wife, Like lightning rush'd on ev'ry fancy, To Providence I trusted life,

Pilt up a prayer, and thought on Nancy.

At last, "twas in the month of May,

The crew, it being lovely weather, At three A. M. discover'd day

And England's chalky cliffs together. At sev’n up channel how we bore,

While hopes and fears possess'd my fancy; At twelve I gaily jump'd on shore,

And to my throbbing heart press'd Nancy.


HILST happy in my native land,

I boast my country's charter, I ne'er will basely lend a hand

Its liberties to barter; The noble mind is not at all

By poverty degraded,
'Tis guilt alone that makes us fall,

So well I am persuaded-
Each true-born Briton's song shall be,
O give ine death or liberty.


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