Изображения страниц


When on board our trim vessel we joyously sail'd, And the glass circl'd round with full glee,

King and country to give, my old shipmate ne'er fail'd,

And the toast was soon toss'd off by me.
Billows might dash,
Lightning might flash,

'Twas the same to us both when at sea.

If a powerful foe in our track did but pass,
We resolved both to live and die free,

Quick we number'd our guns, and for each took a glass,

Then a broadside we gave her with three.
Cannons might roar,

Echoed from shore,

'Twas the same to us both when at sea.

But a cannon ball one day in a fight,

From the deck knock'd him into the sea, So he died as he lived for his country and right, And may this be the end too of me.

Cannons let roar,

Echoed from shore,

For the grave of a sailor's the sea,


My highland home, where tempests blow,
And cold thy wintry looks

Thy mountains crown'd wi' driven snow,
And ice-bound are thy brooks;

But colder far's the Briton's heart,
However far he roam,

To whom these words no joy impart,
'My native Highland home.


Then gang wi' me to Scotland dear,
We ne'er again shall roam,
And with thy smile so bonny, cheer,
My native Highland home.

When summer comes, the heather-bell,
Shall tempt thy feet to rove;
The tender dove, within the dell,
Invite to peace and love;

For blithesome is the breath of day,
And sweet's the bonny broom,

And pure the dimpling rills that play,
Around my Highland home

Then gang wi' me, &c.


Your Molly has never been false she declares,
Since last time we parted at Wapping Old Stairs,
When I swore that I still would continue the same,
Andgave you the 'bacco box mark'd with my name;
When I pass'd a whole fortnight between decks
with you,

Did I e'er give kiss, Tom, to one of the crew?
To be useful and kind with my Thomas I staid;
For his trousers I wash'd, and his grog too I made.
Tho' you promis'd last Sunday to walk in the Mall,
With Susan of Deptford, and likewise with Sall,

In silence I stood your unkindness to hear,
And only upbraided my Tom with a tear.
Why should Sall or should Susan than me be
more priz❜d?

For the heart that is true, Tom, should ne'er be despis'd;

Then be constant and kind, nor your Molly forsake, Still your trousers I'll wash, and your grog too I'll make.


For England when, with fav'ring gale,
Our gallant ship up Channel steer'd,
And, scudding under easy sail,

The high blue western land appear'd,
To heave the lead the seaman sprung,
And to the pilot cheerly sung,

By the deep-nine!

And bearing up to gain the port,
Some well known object kept in view;
An abbey tow'r, and harbour fort,
Or beacon to the vessel true;
While oft the lead the seaman flung,
And to the watchful pilot sung,
By the mark-seven!

And as the much-lov'd shore we near,
With transport we behold the roof,
Where dwelt a friend or partner dear,

Of faith and love a matchless proof.
The lead once more the seaman flung,
And to the watchful pilot sung,

Quarter less-five !

Now to her berth the ship draws nigh!
We shorten sail-she feels the tide-
"Stand clear the cable," is the cry-

The anchor's gone; we safely ride.
The watch is set, and through the night,
We hear the seaman with delight,
Proclaim-"All's well!"


Water parted from the sea,

May increase the river's tide,
To the bubbling fount may flee,
Or through the fertile valleys glide.
Though in search of soft repose,

Through the world 'tis free to roam,
Still it murmurs as it flows,

Panting for its native home.


Bound 'prentice to a waterman, I learn'd a bit to row,

But, bless your heart, I always was so gay, That to treat a little water nymph, that took my heart in tow,

I ran myself a bit in debt, and then I ran away. Singing, ri fol, &c.

Board of man-of-war I entered next, and learn'd to quaff good flip,

And far from home we scudded on so gay,

I ran my rigs, but lik'd so well my captain, crew, and ship,

That run what will, why, damme, if ever I run

[blocks in formation]

With Nelson I've sail'd the world around, and learn'd a bit to fight,

But somehow a prisoner I was taken,

So, when my Spanish jailor to my dungeon show'd, I just blinded both his peepers, and I ran away again.

Singing, ri fel. &c.

I've run many risks in life, on ocean, and on shore,

But always like a Briton got the day;

And fighting in Old England's cause, I'll run as many more,

But let me meet ten thousand foes, will never

run away.

Singing, ri fol, &c.


Love's a plague by night and by day,

When that post you run your skull again; Love it was, for Katy O'Shea,

That bother'd the breast of the brave Captain Mulligan.

Brisk and merrily,
Light and gay,
Stout and steadily,
Smart and readily,

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »