Page:Allan Tine o' Harrow (1).pdf/7

 An Orange Tawny up the Straits;

A Black at St. Lucie:

Thus whatsoever course we bend,

We lead a jovial life,

At every mess we find a friend.

At every port a wife.

Will, Gaffe hy death was ta’en aback,

I came to bring the news,

Poll whimper’d sore, but what did Jack?

Why stood in William’s shoes!

She cut, I chas’d, and in the end

She lov’d me as her life.

So she has got a loving friend,

And I a loving wife.

Come all you Sailors that do go

The unfortunate seas to rub,

You must work, love, and fight your foes,

And drink your generous bub;

Storms that our masts in splinters tear,

Can make our joyous life,

In every want we find a friend,

And every port a wife.

As I was a walking one morning in May,

The small birds were singing delightful and gay,

There with my true love did often sport and play,

Down among the bonny bed of Roses.