Page:Bonny Mally Stewart (2).pdf/5

 Night came, and now eight bells had rung,

where careless sailors ever cheerly,

On the mid-watch so jovial sung,

with tempers, labour cannot weary;

I little to their mirth inclin'd

while tender thoughts rush'd on my fancy,

And my warm sighs increas'd the wind,

look’'d on the moon & thought on Nancy.

And now arriv'd that jovial night,

when ev'ry true-bred tar carouses,

When o'er the grog all hands delight,

to toss their sweethearts and their spouses.

Round went the cup, the jest, the glee.

while tender wishes fill'd each fancy,

And when in turn it came to me,

I heav'd a sigh and toasted Nancy.

Next morn a storm came on at four,

at six the elements in motion,

Plung'd me, and three poor tailors more,

headlong within the foaming ocean;

Poor wretches they soon found their graves,

for me it may be only fancy.

But Love seem'd to forbid the waves,

to snatch me from the arms of Nancy.