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Can wealth or friends thy heart incline,
To scorn my humble lot?

And can thy promise to be mine
Be e'er forgot!

If pity in thy bosom dwell,

My fears, my gentle fears dispel,
Forget me not!

For my life would waste in grief, sweet maid!
Like wounded flow'rets droop and fade;
Forget me not, my lovely maid.

How oft to meet thee in the grove,
At eve I've left my cot!

When every word and look was love,
And every thought!

Thou bad'st me thy fond vows believe,
And can'at me thy fond vows deceive,

Deceive me not;

For my life would waste in grief, sweet maid! Like wounded flow'rets, droop and fade; Deceive me not my lovely maid.


Peaceful slumb'ring on the ocean,
Seamen fear no dangers nigh;

The winds and waves in gentle motion,
Soothe them with their lullaby.

Is the wind tempestuous blowing,
Still no danger they descry;
The guileless heart its boon bestowing,
Soothes them with their lullaby.


I'll tell you, my hearties, a sailor's plain creed,
He believes, 'midst the cannon's loud rattle,
That he who rewards every valorous deed

Guides the helm, and directs every battle:
And if doing our duty (as oft has been said)
Will most certainly Heav'n delight,
What has that honest fellow to fear or to dread,
Who's as ready to pardon as willing to fight.
When, broadside to broadside we fiercely engage,
And the death dealing balls whiz around,
You'd think, by observing our lion like rage,
That humanity's hulk was aground.

But, your colours once struck, you'd be otherwise thinking;

Jack's creed then gives heartfelt relief;

He believes 'tis his duty to save them from sinking,
And be as ready to succour as willing to fight.
But the creed of a sailor still farther extends;
He believes 'tis his duty likewise,

To comfort his poor distressed messmates and friends,

And the girl that's faithful to his prize.

Thus manliness, merit, true friendship and love, All in that gallant sailors unite,

Who while doing duty below or above,

Are as ready to pardon as willing to fight.

BRITONS, UNITED, MUST PREVAIL. My ship's my house, my home, my land, My family not few

My children those whom I command,
A bold and jolly crew;
And while together thus we sail,
Britons, united, must prevail.

For treasure, I've my seaman's love,
And if the foe intends

To venture forth, he may soon prove,
The value of such friends,
For while, together, thus we sail,
Britons, united, must prevail.


Mary, I believed thee true,

And was blest in thus believing; And now I mourn that e'er I knew A girl so fair and so deceiving.

Few have ever loved like me:

Oh! I have loved thee too sincerely! And few have e'er deceived like thee, Alas! deceived me too severely.

Fare thee well! yet think awhile

On one whose bosom bleeds to doubt thee; Who now would rather trust than smile,

And die with thee than live without thee.

Fare thee well! I'll think on thee,

Thou leav'st me many a bitter token; For see, distracting woman, see,

My peace is gone, my heart is broken.


When in the storm on Albion's coast,
The night watch guards his weary post,
From thoughts of danger free.
He marks some vessel's dusky form,
And hears amid the howling storm,
The minute gun at sea.

Swift on the shore a hardy few
The life-boat man with a gallant crew,
And dare the dangerous wave:
Through the wild surf they cleave their way,
Lost in the foam, nor know dismay,
For they go the crew to save.

But oh! what rapture fills each breast
Of the hopeless crew of the ship distress'd!
Then, landed safe, what joy to tell,
Of all the dangers that befell:
Then heard is no more,

By the watch on the shore,
The minute gun at sea.


When first you courted me, I own
I fondly favour'd you:
Apparent worth and high renown
Made me believe you true,

Each virtue then seem'd to adorn
The man esteem'd by me;

But now the mask's thrown off, I scorn

To waste one thought on thee,


Oh! then for ever haste away,

Away from love and me;
Go, seek a heart that's like your own,
And come no more to me,

For I'll reserve myself alone,
For one that's more like me,
If such a one I cannot find,
I'll fly from love and thee,


Fresh blows the gale, soon under weigh,
Our bark was borne with many a sigh:
I oft review'd the less'ning bay,

And lost it with a tearful eye;
But soon our crew began to blame
My love-lorn grief, and call'd it folly,
And oft I troll a catch for shame,

Yet secret cry'd for pretty Polly.


Our little bark, by valour fraught,
Soon met the foe, and laurels won,
Inspired by love alone I fought,

And gain'd fresh courage at my gun, Sir! Our captain's praise unmov'd I heard, Thought all the victor's boast but folly! Then flew to shore to claim reward,

And heart for heart from pretty Polly.

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