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For says he, do you mind me, let storns e'er so oft take the top-sails of sailors a-beck. There's a sweet little Cherub sits p ro d up a- loft, to keep watch for the life of Poor Jack.

said to our Poll, for you see she would cry, when last we weigh'd anchor for sea, Vhat arguſies sniv'ling and piping your eye? why what a damn'd fool you must be! Can't you see the world's wide and there's room for us all both for seamen and lubbers ashore: And if to old Davy I should go dear Poll, why you never will hear of me more. What then? all's a hazard, come don't be so soft perhaps I may laughing come back, For, d'ye see, there's a Cherub sits smilicg aloft, to keep watch for the life of poor Jack.

O'ye mind me, a sailor should be every inch all one as a piece of a ship And with her brave the world, without offering to flinch, from the moment the anchor's a-trip: As for me, in all weathers, all times, sides, and nought's a trouble from duty that springs, My heart is my Poll's, and my rhino my friend's, and as for my life 'tis the king's. 'en when my time comes, ne'er believe me so soft as with grief to be taken aback,