A Sailor's Song.
Come, let's aboard, my jolly blades,
That love a merry life;
To lazy souls leave home-bred trades,
To husbands home-bred strife;
Through Europe we will gaily roam,
And leave our wives and cares at home.
With a Fa la, &c.
If any tradesman broke should be,
Or gentleman distress'd,
Let him away with us to sea,
His fate will be redress'd:
The glorious thunder of great guns,
Drowns all the horrid noise of duns.
With a Fa la, &c.
And while our ships we proudly steer
Through all the conquer'd seas,
We'll shew the world that Britons bear
Their empire where they please:
Where'er our sails are once unfurl'd,
Our king rules that part of the world.
With a Fa la, &c.
The Spaniard with a solemn grace
Still marches slowly on,
We'd quickly make him mend his pace,
Desirous to be gone:
Or if we bend our course to France,
We'll teach Monsieur more brisk to dance.
With a Fa la, &c.
At length, the world subdued, again
Our course we'll homeward bend;
In women, and in brisk champagne,
Our gains we'll freely spend:
How proud our mistresses will be
To hug the men that fought as we.
With a Fa la, &c.
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This work published before January 1, 1923 is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago. |
