155 LEGEND OF HAMILTON TIGHE. THE Captain is walking his quarter-deck, The Captain again the letter hath read Which the bum-boat woman brought out to Spithead -Still, since the good ship sail'd away, He reads that letter three times a-day; Yet the writing is broad and fair to see As a Skipper may read in his degree, And the seal is as black, and as broad, and as flat, As his own cockade in his own cock'd hat: He reads, and he says, as he walks to and fro, "Curse the old woman He she bothers me so!" pauses now, for the topmen hail "On the larboard quarter a sail! a sail!” That grim old Captain he turns him quick, And bawls through his trumpet for Hairy-faced Dick. "The breeze is blowing — huzza! huzza! The breeze is blowing-away! away! The breeze is blowing a race! a race! The breeze is blowing - we near the chase! Oh where will be then young Hamilton Tighe ?" "On the foeman's deck, where a man should be, With his sword in his hand, and his foe at his knee. Cockswain, or boatswain, or reefer may try, But the first man on board will be Hamilton Tighe!" Hairy-faced Dick hath a swarthy hue, Between a gingerbread-nut and a Jew, And his pigtail is long, and bushy, and thick, “The bullets are flying-huzza! huzza! Young Hamilton Tighe Waves his cutlass high, And Capitaine Crapaud bends low at his knee. Hairy-faced Dick, linstock in hand, Is waiting that grim-looking Skipper's command: From that sinister eye― Hairy-faced Dick at once lets fly, And knocks off the head of young Hamilton Tighe! There's a lady sits lonely in bower and hall, The lady has donn'd her mantle and hood, Her coach and four Draws up to the door, With her groom, and her footman, and half a score more; The lady steps into her coach alone, And they hear her sigh and they hear her groan; They close the door, and they turn the pin, But there's one rides with her that never stept in! The harness strains, and the coach-springs crack, 'Tis ever the same, in hall or in bower, Wherever the place, whatever the hour, That lady mutters and talks to the air, And her eye is fixed on an empty chair; But the mealy-faced boy still whispers with dread, "She talks to a man with never a head!" * There's an old Yellow Admiral living at Bath, As grey as a badger, as thin as a lath; And his very queer eyes have such very queer leers, And he plays long whist, but he frets and fumes, And the Jack of Clubs does nothing but frown; In Ratcliffe Highway there's an old marine store, And a great black doll hangs out at the door; There are rusty locks, and dusty bags, And musty phials, and fusty rags, And a lusty old woman, call'd Thirsty Nan, That hairy-faced man is sallow and wan, |