Page:Pocock's Everlasting Songster.djvu/157

 127 )

The what's-their-namesat uproar f quail,

With mufic fine :md foft, But better founds our bontfxvain's call,

All hands, all hands aloft.

And a failing, &cv

With gold and filver ftreamlets fine

The ladies rigging fliew, But Engliih mips nx>re grandeur fliine,

When prizes home we tow.

And a failing, &c.

What's got at fea we fpend on wore,

With fweethearts or our wiv And then, my boys, hoift fail for more,

Thus pafs the failurs' lives.

And a failing, ;c

��THE INSULTED SAILOR.

'HEN my money was gone that I gain'd in. the

wars,

And the world 'gan to frown at my fate, What matter'd my zeal, or my honour'd fears, When indifference flood at each gate ?

The face that would fmile when my purfe was well

lin'd,

Shew'd a different afpec"l to me ; And when I could nought but ingratitude find, I liicd once again to the fea.

I thought

�� �