Shoulders rising over his ears, You ne'er saw the fellow of Captain Mulligan, Quite bewitching him, Squinting funnily, She was a Vanus, to Captain Mulligan. 66 O, sweet Kitty, (Soft he cried, the brave O'Mulligan ;) Pretty Witty, Kitty, Married, how they'd alter'd their tune; Night and day, Scolding, fighting him," Och! be aisy now, The devil go with you then Mrs. Mulligan, I should rue it!" (Sad he cried poor Captain Mulligan,) "You're my gruel, Cruel, Jewel, Come, jolly Bacchus.' COME jolly Bacchus, god of wine, Thus, mighty Bacchus, shalt thou be May enjoy new pleasure. We'll in thy name invoke their stay, O'er hills and high mountains, For to drink down the sun, So we'll tarry and drink down the moon, So we'll tarry and drink down the moon, Cockney Sportsman. DON'T you see that as how I'm a sportsman in style, All so kickish, so slim, and so tall! Why I've search'd after game, and that many's the mile, And seed no bit of nothing at all. My licence I pockets, my pony I strides, And I pelts through the wind and the rain, And if likely to fall, sticks the spurs in the sides, Leaves the bridle, and holds by the mane : To be sure dad at home kicks up no little strife: But, daddy, what's that-en't it fashion and life? And at sporting I never was known for to lag, When at Epping, last Easter, they turn'd out a stag, M Then they calls me a nincom! why over the fields— Then let miserly dad kick up sorrow and strife, I'm the lad that's genteel, and knows fashion and life. But don't go for to think I neglects number one! There I springs me a woodcock, or flushes a quail, Pays my landlord his shot, as I ogles his wife, While the daughter cries out-Lord, what fashion and life. Then I buys me some game, all as homeward we jog; I swears, and then stands to't, I've shot'em; So come round me, ye sportsmen, that's smart and what not, All stylish and cutting a flash, When your piece wo'nt kill game, charg'd with powder and shot, To bring them down-down with your cash! And if with their jokes and their jeers folks are rife, Why, dabby, says you, en't it fashion and life? Sailor's Philosophy. IBE one of those sailors who think 'tis no lie, That for every wherefore in life there's a why; That, be fortune's strange weather a frown or a squall, Our lives, good or bad, are chalk'd out for us all; That the stays and the braces of life will be found To be some of them rotten, and some of them sound: That the good we should cherish, the bad never seek, For death will too soon bring each anchor a-peak. When astride on the yard, the top-lifts they let go, And I came like a shot plump among them below, Why I catch'd at a halyard, and jump'd upon deck, And so broke my fall to save breaking my neck; Just like your philosophers, for all their jaw, Who less than a rope, gladly catch at a straw. Thus the good, &c. Why now that there cruise that we made off the banks, Where I pepper'd the foe, and got shot for my thanks; What then? she soon struck; and though crippled on shore, And laid up to refit, I had shiners galore. At length 'live and looking I tried the false mais, And to get more prize-money got shot at again; Thus the good, &s. |