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Poems for the Sea.
But Jack might louder laugh, we guess,
Except he's too polite,
To see those lubbers climb the shrouds
On a dark and stormy night,
Or try with gloved and lily hands
To furl the stiffened sails,
When through a mist of sleet and snow
Old Boreas blows his gales.
How would the world's hard work go on,
If we who plough the main,
Should hold umbrellas o'er our heads
At every squall of rain?
Or slink away when Neptune frowns,
And breakers roar in scorn,
Or fear to bide the buffet rude
From the fist of old Cape Horn.
So, do us justice, landsmen all,
Even though you seem to flout us,
