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A ID a sailor, kind sirs, who once felt it his
glory To fight for his country, bis king to defend; O stop for a moment, and hear my sad story,
And doiyn, when 'tis ended, my wants to defend. I once had a sweetheart whose vows I shall never
Forget when she said it would grieve her to part, And that, happen what might, she would love me
for ever, If time did not alter the worth of my heart, We set sail from Plymouth, a French ship gave
us battle, And I was determin'd to conquer or die, Indaunted, around me I heard the balls rattle,
And lost in the contest an arm and an eye; Yet I thought not the loss of a limb in my duty,
To Nancy or me would a sorrow impart. One eye was still left me to gaze on her beauty, And I knew what she priz'd in me most was
But when inaim'd and in want I gain'd Plymouth
harbour, And Nancy beheld my unfortunate plight; Next morning she married Tom Halyard of
Depriv'd of an eye, of an arm, and his heart.
A DIEU, adieu, my only life,
Those tears but ill become thee.
Where thund'ring cannons rattle; Where valour's self might stand appallid, Where valour's self might stand appallid;
When on the wings of thy dear love,
The tender pray'r thou put’st up there
To watch me in the battle.
As sword and buckler serving,
Because of thy preserving.
Let thund'ring cannons rattle,
To heaven above, &c. Enough, -with that benignant smile
Some kindred god inspir'd thee, Who saw thy bosom void of guile,
Who wonder'd and admir'd thee; I go-assur'd-my life! adieu,
Though thund'ring cannons rattle, Though murd'ring carnage stalk in view, When on the wings of thy true love,
To heaven above, &c.
DEHOLD! from many a hostile shore, ID And all the dangers of the main, Where tempests burst and billows roar,
Your faithful Toin returns again; Returns, and brings with him a heart, Which ne'er froin Sally shall depart.
Which ne'er, &c, After long toil, and danger past,
How sweet to tread our native soil !
And deck our sweethearts with the spoil!
No one, &c.
SWEET-scented Beau, and a simp'ring
young Cit, An artful Attorney, a Rake, and a Wit, Set out on the chace in pursuit of her heart, Whilst Chloe disdainfully laugh'd at their art; And rous'd by the hounds to meet the swect morn, Tantivy, she followed the echoing horn. Wit swore by his fancy, the Beau by his face, The Lawyer with quibble set out on the chace, The Cit with exactness made up his account, The Rake told his conquests, how vast the amount! She laugh'd at their follies, and, blithe as the morn, Tantivy, she follow'd the echoing horn. Their clamorous noise rous'd a jolly young swain; Ilark forward, he cry'd, then bounc'd over the
He distanc'd the Wit, the Cit, and the Beau, --
AT the peaceful midnight hour,
BLOW high, blow low, let tempests tear
D. The main-mast by the board,
And love well stor'd,
The roaring winds, the raging sea,
Safe moord with thec..
The whistling winds that scud along,
Shall my signal be to think on thee, And this shall be my song.
Blow high, &c. And on that night when all the crew
The mem'ry of their former lives O'er flowing cans of flip renew,
And drink their sweethearts and their wives, I'll heave a sigh, and think on thee; And as the ship rolls through the sea, The burden of my song shall be,
Blow high, &c.
D EAR is my little native vale,
To every passing villager;