So the sweet lark, high pois'd in air,

Shuts close his pinions to his breast,
If chance his mate's shrill call he hear,

And drops at once into her nest.
The noblest captain in the British fleet
Might envy William's lips those kisses sweet.
O Suran, Susan, lovely dear!

My vows shall ever true remain;
Let me kiss off that falling tear;

We only part to mee: again. Change as ye list, ye winds ! my heart shall be The faithful compass that still points to thee. Believe not what the landmen say,

Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind; They'll tell thee, sailors, when away,

In ev'ry port a mistress find.
Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so,
For thou art present wheresoe'er I go.
If to fair India's coast we sail,

Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright;
Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale,

Thy skin is ivory so whỉte.
Thus ev'ry beauteous object that I view,
Wakes in

my soul some charm of lovely Sue.

Though battle calls me from thy arms,

Let not my pretty Susan mourn;
Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms,

William shall to his dear return.
Love turns aside the balls that round me fly,
Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye.


The boatswain


the dreadful word, The sails their swelling bosom spread; No longer must she stay aboard:

They kiss’d-she sigb’d, he hung bis head. Iler less’ning boat unwilling rows to land: Adieu ! she cries, and wav'd her lily hand.

BY moonlight on the

Where lads and lasses stray,
Ilow sweet the blossoin'd bean!

How sweet the new made hay!
But not to me so sweet

The blossoms on the thorn,
As when my lad! I meet,

More fresh than May-day morn:
Give me the lad so blithe aud gay,

Give me the Tartau-pladdie;
For, spite of all the wise can say,

I'll wed' my Ilighland laddie,
My bonny Ilighland laddie,
My bonny Ilighland laddie,
My bonny, bonny, bonný, bonny,

Bonny Highland laddie.
Ilis skin as white as snow,

Ilis een are bonny blae;
Like rose-bud sweco his mou'

When wet wi' morning dew..
Young Will is rich and great,

And fain wou'd ca'me his;
But what is pride or state,
Without love's smiling bliss?

Give in the lad, &c,
I 3


When first he talk'd of love,

He look'd sae blithe and gay,
His flame I did approve,
And cou'd na say


Then to the kirk I'll haste,

There prove my love and truth;
Reward a love sąe chaste,
And wed the constant youth.

Give me the lad, &c.

NOME all hands, ahoy, to the anchor,

Poll blubbers and cries-devil thank her!

She'll soon take another in tow.
This breeze, like the Old One, will kick uş

About on the boisterous main:
And one day, if death does not trick us,

Perhaps we may come back again,
With a will-ho then pull away, jolly boys !

At the mercy of fortune we go,
We are in fort; then dam'me, what folly boys.

For to be down-hearted, yo-ho! Our boatswain takes care of the rigging,

More 'specially when he gets dịunk:
The bobstays supply him with swigging,

He the cable cuts up for old junk;
The studding sail serves for his hammock,

With the chie-lines he bought him his call,
While ensigns and jacks in a mammock
Are sold to buy trinkets for Poll,

With a will-ho, &c.

Of the purser this here is the maxim

Slops, grog, and provision he sacks; How he'd look if you were but to ax him,

With the captain's clerk who 'tis goes snacks! 0! he'd find it another guess story,

That would bring his bare back to the cat,
Should his majesty's honour and glory
Just only be told about that.

With a will-ho, &c.

The chaplain's both holy and godly,

And sets us for heaven agog:
Yet, to my inind, he looks rather oddly

When he's swearing and drinking of grog:
When he took on his knee Betty Bowser,

And talk'd of her beauty and charms, Cry'd I, “Which is the way to heav'n now, Sir!" “ You dog," says the chaplain, “ her arms !!

With a will-ho, &c,

The gunner's a devil of a bubber;

The carpenter can't fish a mast; The surgeon's a lazy laud-lubber;

The master can't steer if he's ask't;
The lieutenants conceit are wrapp'd in;

The mates hardly merit their flip;
And there's never a swab but the captain
Knows the stem from the stern of the ship,

With a will-ho, &c.

Now fore and aft having abus'd 'em,

Just all for my fancy and gig,
Could I find any one that ill-us'd 'em,

Dam'me but I'd tickle his wig!


Jack never. was known for a railer;

'Twas fun ev'ry word that I spoke; For the sign of a true-hearted sailor Is--to give and to take a good joke.

With a will-ho, &c.

YOME, never seem to mind it,

Nor count your fate a curse,
However sad you find it,

Yet somebody is worse;
In danger some must come off short,

Yet why should we despair,
For tho' bold tars are Fortune's sport,

They still are Fortune's care.
Why, when our vessel blew up,

A fighting that there Don,
Like squibs and crackers flew up

The crew, each mother's son;
They sunk, some rigging stopt me short,
While twirling in the air.

And thus, if tars, &c.

Young Peg of Portsmouth Common,
Had like to have been

my wile;
Long side of such a woman

I'd led a pretty life.
A landsman, one Jem Davenport,
She convoy'd to Horn Fair.
And thus, tho'tars, &c.

A splinter

« ForrigeFortsett »