What then? all's a hazard: come, don't be so soft; For, d'ye see, there's a cherub sits smiling aloft, D'ye mind me, a sailor should be every inch All as one as a piece of the ship, And with her brave the world without offering to flinch, As for me, in all weathers, all times, sides, and ends, For my heart is my Poll's, and my rhino's my friend's, Even when my time comes, ne'er believe me so soft As for grief to be taken aback, For the same little cherub that sits up aloft Will look out a good berth for poor Jack! Yo, HEAVE, Ho! The boatswain calls, the wind is fair, The anchor heaving, Our sweethearts leaving, We to duty must repair, Where our stations well we know. Cast off halyards from the cleats, Stand by well, clear all the sheets; Your handspikes poise, And give one general huzza! For the tears ashore that flow: To the windlass let us go, With yo, heave, ho! The anchor coming now apeak, Lest the ship, striving, Be on it driving, That we the tap'ring yards must seek, And back the fore-topsail well we know. A pleasing duty! From aloft We faintly see those charms, where oft, With passion burning, VOL. XX.-4 We fondly gaze, those eyes that seem, Now the ship is under way, The breeze so willing The canvas filling, The pressed triangle cracks the stay, So taught to haul the sheet we know. And now in trim we gayly sail, The massy beam receives the gale; To his beauty (Left on the less'ning shore afar) A fervent sigh heaves every tar; To thank those tears for him that flow, GRIEVING'S A FOLLY. Spanking Jack was so comely, so pleasant, so jolly, Though winds blew great guns, still he'd whistle and sing, For Jack loved his friend, and was true to his Molly, And, if honor gives greatness, was great as a king. One night as we drove with two reefs in the mainsail, And the scud came on low'ring upon a lee shore, Jack went up aloft for to hand the topg'ant sail A spray washed him off, and we ne'er saw him more: But grieving's a folly, Come let us be jolly; If we've troubles on sea, boys, we've pleasures on shore. Whiffling Tom, still of mischief or fun in the middle, As yardarm and yardarm we lay off the shore, In and out whiffling Tom did so caper and jig it, That his head was shot off, and we ne'er saw him more: But grieving's a folly, Come let us be jolly; If we've troubles on sea, boys, we've pleasures on shore. Bonny Ben was to each jolly messmate a brother, To his friend and his duty, that sailor was he: Come let us be jolly; If we've troubles on sea, boys, we've pleasures on shore. But what of it all, lads? shall we be downhearted Because that mayhap we now take our last sup? Life's cable must one day or other be parted, And Death in safe moorings will bring us all up: But 'tis always the way on't-one scarce finds a brother Fond as pitch, honest, hearty, and true to the core, But by battle, or storm, or some damned thing or other, He's popped off the hooks, and we ne'er see him more! But grieving's a folly, Come let us be jolly; If we've troubles on sea, boys, we've pleasures on shore. HONESTY IN TATTERS. This here's what I does - I, d'ye see, forms a notion Are the winds and the billows that foment the ocean, As we work through the passage of life. And for fear on life's sea lest the vessel should founder, To lament and to weep, and to wail, Is a pop gun that tries to outroar a nine-pounder, All the same as a whiff in a gale. Why now I, though hard fortune has pretty near starved me, And my togs are all ragged and queer, Ne'er yet gave the bag to the friend who had served me, Or caused ruined beauty a tear. Now there t'other day, when my messmate deceived me, Do you think in revenge, while their treachery grieved me, This here on the matter was my way of arg'ing "Tis true they han't left me a cross; |