Babes in the wood/The sailor's adieu

The Sailor's Adieu.

THE topsail shivers in the wind,
⁠the ship she's cast to sea;
But yet my soul, my heart, my mind,
⁠are Mary, moor'd with thee:
For though thy sailor's bound afar,
⁠still love shall be his leading star.

Should landmen flatter when we're sail'd,
⁠O doubt their artful tales;
No gallant sailor ever fail'd,
⁠if Cupid fills his sails;
Thou art the compass of my soul,
⁠which steer my heart from pole to pole.

Sirens in every port we meet,
⁠more fell than rocks or waves:
But sailors of the British fleet,
⁠are lovers and not slaves:
No foes our courage shall subdue,
⁠although we've left our hearts with you

There are our cares, but if your kind,
⁠we'll scorn the dashing main,
The rocks, the billows and the wind,
⁠the powers of France and Spain.
Now Britain's glory rests with you,
⁠Our sails are full—sweet girls adieu,

FINIS.