A New Sea Song

When gentle Zephyr fans the ocean, The playful waves in dimples gay, Our cumb'rous bark scarce put in motion, We sailors make it holiday; In jovous ring, We sit and sing, Of heroes fam'd with laurels crown'd; Old Benbow's sate, The crew relate, In chorus, while the can goes round.

But when from northern regions bursting, Wild Boreas rushes o'er the deep, For pleasures we no more are thirsting, But to our quarters instant leap: Tho' billows roar, Aloft we soar, For sailors hearts are never scar'd; While blows the gale, We furl the sail, Suspended from the bending yard.

The watch revolving nightly keeping, The land descry'd, of rocks aware, Fresh pleasures from our dangers reaping, When moor'd in harbour with the fair; In joyous ring, We fit and sing, Of heroes sam'd, with laurels crown'd; Old Benbow's fate, The crew relate, In chorus, while the can goes round.