And, while remembrance wakes the sigh,
Which weans each feeling heart from joy;
The mournful dirge, ascending high,
Bewails the fate of Sally Roy,

Poor Jack.

Go, patter to lubbers and swabs, d'ye see, 'Bout danger, and fear, and the like:

A tight water boat and good sea-room give me, And t'ent to a little I'll strike.

Though the tempest top-gallant-masts smack smooth should smite,

And shiver each splinter of wood,

Clear the wreck, stow the yards, and bowse every thing tight,

And under reef'd foresail we'll scud.

Avast, nor don't think me a milk-sop so soft,
To be taken for trifles aback;

For they say there's a Providence sits up aloft,
To keep watch for the life of poor Jack.

Why I heard the good chaplain palaver one day,
About souls, heaven, mercy, and such;

And, my timbers, what lingo he'd coil and belay,
Why 'twas just all as one as High Dutch.
But he said how a sparrow can't founder, d'yé seé,
Without orders that comes down below,

And many fine things, that prov'd clearly to me,
That Providence takes us in tow;

For, says he, do you mind me, let storms, e'er so oft,
Take the top-sails of sailors aback,

There's a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft,
To keep watch for the life of poor Jack.

I said to our Poll, (for, d'ye see she would cry,)
When last we weigh'd anchor for sea,
What argufies 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 seamed 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 smiling aloft, To keep watch for the life of poor Jack.

D'ye mind me, a sailor should be ev'ry inch
All as one as a piece of his ship;

And with her brave the world, without off'ring to flinch,

From the moment the anchor's a trip.

As for me, in all weathers, all times, sides, and

ends,

Nought's a trouble from duty that springs; For my heart is my Poll's, and my rhino's my friend's,

And as for my life, 'tis my king's:

E'en when my time comes, ne'er believe me so soft,
As with grief to be taken aback;

That same little cherub that sits up aloft,
Will look out a good birth for poor Jack,

Colin Clump's Ramble.
LAST winter, quite tir'd of tillage,
Hard days work I'd many a one done,
I left our snug little village,

To zee all the wonders of London;
The Roskius I first went to zee,

And I think you'll all freely confess, sirs,
There han't been such a Betty as he,

Since the days of our good old Queen Bess, sirs.

(Spoken.) I ware mortal well pleas'd to zee he play the peart of Dowglass, he look'd so pratty, and did it zomehow zoa Rum ti iddity, &c,

Then the budget came out by the way,
And for taxes the ministers call, sir,
But few had the money to pay,

For the Forty Thieves borrow'd it all, sir,
Then some Travellers made a great rout;

But in spite of disguisement to catch ye,
They were only, as soon I found out,

Master Bramer, and Senora Scratche.

(Spoken.) I was used to think the clark of our parish was a main good one at chaunting a staave, but Master Bramer beats he by far, he be zoa fam❤ ous at zinging Rum ti iddity, &c.

Foxhall, too, were one of the zights,
And to think on it puzzled me daily,
What a mort they mun pay window lights.
For the lamps that they use in the galas;

The company rank'd pratty high,
And I thought it no bad sort of joke, sir, –
To see the Game Chicken and I

Cheek by jole, with the other great folk, sir.

(Spoken.) Don't thee be frighten'd, young mon,' said he, for if any gemman bezide myself offers to affront thee, dam'me if I don't give him such a Rum ti iddity, &c.

Cooke and Kemble I saw in one play,
But none from applauding would rest, sir;
So, not hearing what either might say,

I coud'n't judge which was the best, sir:
And although at the thing you may scoff,
I promise you 'tisn't a. hum, sir,

That a new Finger Post, Five Miles Off,
Got all the town under its thumb, siṛ.

(Spoken.) I've zeen many a vinger post in our pairts of the country, but I never zeed such a one as this-it was zoa Rum ti iddity, &c.

At Astley's and Circus I zeed

Horses dance minerwits and cowtillions, While the riders, true grasshopper breed, Jump'd over both saddles and pillions. Sadler's Wells, I were told, were the rage, And a wonderful place, 'twere, no doubt on't, For the New River came on the stage,

And the waterproof ghosts they jumptout on't,

(Spoken.) The ghostes they are so natural, they look like live ghostesses: there I zeed the Invisible

Ring, and there was a handsome young mon, much about my zize, who kept the volkes grinning with his Rum ti iddity, &c.

To Bartelmy Fair my next start

Was, to zee every freak and vagary,
There I tho't to have zeen Bonaparte,
For they wrote up the Corsican Fairy ;'
For Boney was coming, 'tware said,
But the butterfly emperor tarries, sir,
Cause he knows if we once break his head,
They'll not mend it with plaister of Paris,sir.

Spoken.) They told I that Maister Boney were coming over here, but I think he had better leave it aloane; for if he do, he 'll vind some tightish lads ready to give him such a Rum ti iddity, &c.

The Pilot.

WHEN lightnings pierce the pitchy sky,

And o'er the ocean's bosom fly,
While roaring waves each other whelm,
The hardy pilot takes the helm;
He puts to sea, resolv'd to save,
Or perish in the briny wave.

The signals of distress he hears,
And to the found'ring vessel steers,
He loudly hails th' exhausted crew,
Who, cheer'd by him, their toils renew,
And bless the pilot come to save,
Or perish in the briny wave.