Page:Allan Tine o' Harrow (2).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 by 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 cho s‘d a in the end,

she lov’d me was her life,

So she has got a loving fr’end,

and I a loving wife.

Come all you Sailors that do go,

the unfortunate seas to ru,

You must werk, love and fight your foes,

and drink your generous bub;

Storms that ou 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 Beds of Roses.