Tho’ cannons roar, yet, ſafe from harm,
William ſhall to his dear return:
Love turns aſide the balls that round me fly,
Leſt precious tears ſhould drop from Suſan’s eye,
The boatswain gave the dreadful word.
The ſails their ſwelling boſoms ſpread;
No longer muſt ſhe ſtay on board.
They kiſt’d, ſhe ſigh’d, he hung his head;
Her lef ing boat, unwilling, rows to land,
Adieu, ſhe cries, and wav’d her lily hand.
The KING and the TANNER.
Up the wild foreſt, and down the wild foreſt,
and down by yon green-wood tree.
And there ſpy’d a jolly briſk Tanner,
and a brave briſk Tanner was he.
O what occupation are you, ſays the King?
O what occupation are you?
A tanner, a tanner, a barker of leather.
What de’il occupation are ye, quoth the Tanner?
O I am a Courtier, replied the King,
and a Courtier I be.
I once had a brother of your occupation,
was hanged, and ſo will ye, ſays the Tanner.
