The Hen-peck'd husband, or, Easy John/The sailor's journal

⟨The⟩ SAILOR'S JOURNAL.

’TWAS poſt meridian half paſt four,
by ſignal I from Nancy parted,
At fix ſhe linger'd on the ſhore,
with uplift hands, and broken hearted;
At ſeven, while tautning the fore-ſtay,
I ſaw her faint, or elſe 'twas fancy,
At eight we all got under weigh,
and bid a long adieu to Nancy.

Night came and now eight bells had rung,
where careleſs ſailors ever cheerly,
On the mid-watch, ſo jovial ſung,
with tempers, labour cannot weary;
I little to their mirth inclin'd,
while tender thoughts ruſh'd on my fancy,
And my warm ſighs increas'd the wind,
look'd on the moon, & thought on Nancy.

And now arriv'd that jovial night,
when ev'ry true-bred tar carouſes,
When o'er the grog all hands delight,
to toſs their ſweethearts and their ſpouſes.
Round went the cup, the jeſt, the glee,
while tender wiſhes fill’d each fancy,
And when in turn it came to me,
I heav'd a ſigh and toaſted Nancy.

Next morn a ſtorm came on at four,
at ſix, the elements in motion,
Plung'd me, and three poor ſailors more,
headlong within the foaming ocean;
Poor wretches they ſoon found their graves,
for me it may be only fancy,
But Love ſeem'd to forbid the waves,
to match me from the arms of Nancy.

Scarce the foul hurricane was clear'd,
fearce winds and waves had ceas'd to rattle
When a bold enemy appear'd,
and dauntleſs we prepar'd for battle;
And now, while ſome lov'd friend or wife,
like light’ning ruſh’d on every fancy.
To Providence I truſted life. put up a prayer,
put up a prayer, and thought on Nancy.

At laſt, 'twas in the month of May,
the crew, it being lovely weather,
At three A. M. diſcover’d day,
and England's chalky cliffs together.
At ſeven, up channel how we bore
while hopes and fears ruſh'd on my fancy,
At twelve, I gaily jump'd aſhore,
and to my throbbing heart preſs'd Nancy.