A Collection of Songs,: Selected from the Works of Mr. Dibdin. ..... Volume II, Volume 2

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author, and sold, 1796 - Songs, English - 191 pages
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Page 57 - I BE one of they sailors who think 'tis no lie, That for every wherefore of life there's a why, That be fortune's strange weather, a calm or a squall, Our berths, good or bad, are chalk'd out for us all : That the stays and the braces of life will be found To be some of 'em rotten, and some of 'em sound, That the good we should cherish, the bad never seek, For death will too soon bring each anchor apeak.
Page 146 - The drums like thunder seem'd to rattle, Ah ! too prophetic were her fears, They call'd him from her arms to battle! There wonders he against the foe Perform'd, and was with laurels crown'd, Vain pomp ! for soon death laid him low On the cold ground. Her heart all love, her soul all truth, That none her fears or flight discover, Poor Peg, in guise a comely youth, Follow'd to the field her lover.
Page 116 - To rancour unknown, to no passion a slave, Nor unmanly, nor mean, nor a railer, He's gentle as mercy, as fortitude brave,— And this is a true English sailor.
Page 72 - Tant masted all, to see who's tallest, Breastworks, top-ga'ant sails, and a fan ; Messmate, cried I, more sail than ballast : Ah still give me my buxom Nan. None in life's sea can sail more quicker, To show her love or serve a friend : But hold, I'm preaching o'er my liquor ; This one word then, and there's an end : Of all the wenches...
Page 81 - WHY, don't you know me by my scars ? I'm soldier Dick come from the wars ; Where many a head without a hat Crowds honour's bed — but what of that? Beat drums, play fifes, 'tis glory calls, What argufies who stands or falls ? Lord, what should one be sorry for ? Life's but the fortune of the war : Then rich or poor, or well or sick, Still laugh and sing shall soldier Dick. I used to look two ways at once, A bullet hit me on the sconce, And dows'd my glim : d'ye think I'd wince?
Page 68 - Death ascends his ebon car, Clad in terrific anger : A doubtful fate the soldier tries, Who joins the gallant quarrel : Perhaps on the cold ground he lies, No wife, no friend, to close his eyes, Though nobly mourn'd, Perhaps return'd, He's crown'd with victory's laurel.
Page 85 - I sing of a strange inundation, That had like to have carried away All the wigs and long robes of the nation ; While thinking of no harm at all, But a few wretched people's undoing, Father Thames entered Westminster Hall, Threat' ning all law and justice with ruin.
Page 47 - He can pull away, Cast off, belay, Aloft, alow, Avast, yo ho ! And hand, reef, and steer. Know each halliard and jeer, And of duty every rig ; But his joy and delight Is on Saturday night A drop of the creature to swig. The first voyage I made to sea, One...
Page 82 - Some distant keep from war's alarms, For fear of wooden legs and arms, While others die safe in their beds Who all their lives had wooden heads. Beat drums, &c.
Page 188 - You'll always sail in the wind's eye: With palaver and nonsense, I'm not to be paid off, I'm adrift, let it blow then great guns, A gale, a fresh breeze, or the old gemman's head off, I takes life rough and smooth as it runs : Content, though hard fortune, &c.

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