And bearing up to gain the port,

Some well-known object kept in view; An abbey-tow'r, an harbour-fort,

Or beacon to the vessel true; While oft the lead the seaman flung,

And to the pilot cheerly 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 pilot cheerly 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 seamen with delight,

Proclaim-" All's well!"

The British Grenadiers.

Upon the plains of Flanders,

Our fathers long ago,

They fought like Alexanders

Beneath old Marlborough ;

And still in fields of conquest,

Our valour bright has shone, With Wolfe and Abercrombie, And Moore and Wellington.

Our plumes were waved in combats,
That ne'er shall be forgot,
Where many a mighty squadron
Reeled backwards from our shot.

In charges from the bayonet,
We lead our bold compeers;
But Frenchmen like to stay not
For British grenadiers.

Once bravely at Vimiera

They hoped to play their parts,

And sing fal lira, lira,

To cheer their drooping hearts. But English, Scotch and Paddy whacks, We gave three hearty cheers,

And the French soon turned their backs To the British grenadiers.

At St. Sebastiano's,

And Badajos's town,

Though raging like volcanoes

The shell and shot came down,

With courage never wincing,
We scale the ramparts high,
And waved the British ensign

In glorious victory.

And what could Bonaparte,

With all his curassiers,
In battle do, at Waterloo,

With British grenadiers?

Then ever sweet the drum shall beat

That march unto our ears,

Whose martial roll awakes the soul
Of British grenadiers.

England the Home of the World.

Hail to thee! England, blest Isle of the ocean,
Thy proud deeds awaken the fondest emotion;
Whose name shall for ever live famous in story,
The watch-word of freedom, the birth-place of glory;
Thy sons they are brave and true to their duty,
Thy daughters are fair, lovely emblems of beauty:
The joys that surround, but in England are found,
In England the home of the world-
Couch'd is her Lion, Britannia reposes,
Encircl'd by laurels, amid her bright roses-
Her warriors at rest and her banners all furl'd.
Hail to thee England, &c.

Ye who inveigh 'gainst the land of the stranger,
Who would by disunion its blessings endanger,
Go seek foreign climes for a country so glorious
As England, old England, for ever victorious:
Her light was the beacon that guided to freedom,
When nations oppress'd call'd on England to aid them,

Her clarion she blew, stood steadfast and true,
And spread her shield over the world.-
Long may her navy, triumphantly sailing,
And army, still conquer with courage unfailing,
Their thunder for ever 'gainst tyrants be hurl'd.

Hail to thee England, &c.

Harry Bluff.

When a boy, Harry Bluff left his friends and his home, And his dear native land, o'er the ocean to roam: Like a sapling he sprung, he was fair to the view, And was true British oak, boys, when older he grew. Though his body was weak, and his hands they were

soft,

When the signal was given, he the first went aloft,
And the veterans all cried, he'll one day lead the van;
For though rated a boy, he'd the soul of a man,
And the heart of a true British sailor.

When in manhood promoted, and burning for fame,
Still in peace and in war Harry Bluff was the same;
So true to his love, and in battle so brave,

The myrtle and laurel entwine o'er his grave.
For his country he fell, when by victory crowned,
The flag shot away,
fell in tatters around ;
The foe thought he'd struck-but he sung out avast!
And the colours of England he nailed to the mast.
Then he died like a true British sailor.

Po Heave Ho.

My name, d'ye see's Tom Tough, I've seen a little service,

Where mighty billows roll and the loud tempests blow; I have sail'd with valiant Howe, I've sail'd with noble Jervis,

And in gallant Duncan's fleet I've sung out yo heave ho! Yet more shall ye be knowing,

I was cockswain to Boscawen,

And even with brave Hawke I've nobly faced the foe. Then put round the grog,

So we've that and our prog,

We'll laugh in care's face, and sing yo heave ho.

When from my love to part I first weigh'd anchor,
And she was snivelling seen on the beach below,
I'd like to cotch my eyes snivelling too, d'ye see to
thank her,

But I brought my sorrows up with a yo heave ho;
For sailors though they have their jokes,

They love and feel like other folks,

Their duty to neglect must not come for to go;
So I seiz'd the capstan bar,

Like a true honest tar,

And in spite of tears and sighs sung yo heave ho.

But the worst on't was that time when the little ones were sickly,

And if they'd live or die, the doctor did not know;
The word was giv'n to weigh so sudden and so quickly,
I thought my heart would break as I sung yo heave ho.