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The courfe was a fine one, Ihe took o'er the plain, Which (he doubled, and doubled, and doubled again j 'Till at laft, (he to cover return'd out of breath ; Where I, and Will Whittle, were in at the death ; Then, in triumph for you, J the hare did difplay, And cry 'd to the horns, my boys, hark, hark away.

��POOR JACK.

GO patter to lubbers and fwabs, d'ye fee, 'Bout danger and fear, and the like ; A tight water- boat, and good fea room give me,

And it e'n't to a little I'll ftrike ; Tho' the tempeft top-gallant-maft fmack-fmootk

mould fmite,

And (hiver each fplinter of wood lear the wreck, ftow the yards, and bowfe ev'ry

thing tight,

And under reef 'd forefail we'll feud fiivaft ! nor don't think me a milk-fop fo foff,

To be taken with trifles aback, For they fay there's a Providence fits up aloft To keep* watch for the lite of Poor Jack.

r hy, I heard the good chaplain palaver one day About fouls heaven mercy and fuch ; And my tirr.bers, what lingo ! he'd coil and belay !

Why 'twas j uft all as one as high Dutch : But he fakl how a fparrow can't founder, d'ye fee,

Without orders that comedown below ; And many fine things, that prov'd clearly to me, That Providence takes us in tow.

"For,"

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