Page:Roger of Coverly, or, Monsieur come if ye dare.pdf/5

 Next in a Frigate sailing,

upon a squally night,

Thund'ring, light'ning, hailing,

the horrors of the fight,

My precious limb was lopped off,

I, when they eas’d me of my pain,

Thank'd God I was not popped off,

and went to sea again. And went, &c.

Yet still I am enabled

to bring up in life's rear,

Although I'm quite disabled,

and lie in Greenwich tire;

The King, God bless his Royalty,

who took me from the main,

I’ll praise with love and loyalty,

but ne'er to sea again

Chor. But ne’er to sea again,

but ne’er to sea again,

I’ll praise with love and loyalty,

but ne’er to sea again.



Fowler in the Glen,

Has o’er mony wooing at her,

Tibby Fowler in the Glen,

Has o’er mony wooing at her.

Wooing at her, powing at her,

Courting at her, canna get her;

Filthy Elf, its for her pelf,

That a' the lads are wooing at her.