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If to fair India's coast we sail,
Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright;
Thy breath in Africa‘s spicy gale;
Thy skin is ivory so white;
Thus every beauteous object that I view,
Wakes in my soul some charms of lovely Sue.
Tho‘ battle calls me from thy arms,
Let not pretty Susan mourn;
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 fall from Susan's eye.
The boatswain gave the dreadful word,
The sails their swelling bosom spread,
No longer must she stay on board,
They kiss'd she sigh'd, he hung his head;
Her less'ning boat unwilling rows to land,
Adieu she cries, and wav'd her lily hand.
Jenny's Bawbee.
And a‘ that e‘er my Jenny had,
My Jenny had, my Jenny had,
A‘ that e‘er my Jenny had,
Was ae bawbee.
There's your plack, and my plack,
And my plack, and your plack,
