BALLAD. (I sail'd from the Downs in the…)

I sail'd from the Downs in the Nancy, My jib how she smack'd through the breeze, She's a vessel as tight to my fancy As ever sail'd on the salt seas.

So adieu to the white cliffs of Briton, Our girls, and our dear native shore, For if some hard rock we should split on, We shall never see them any more.

But sailor's were born for all weathers, Great guns let it blow high, blow low, Our duty keeps us to our tethers, And where the gale drives we must go.

When we entered the gut of Gibralter, I verily thought she'd have sunk, For the wind so began for to alter, She yaw'd just as thof she was drunk.

The squall tore the mainsail to shivers, Helm a weather the hoarse boatswain cries, Brace the foresail athwart, see she quivers, As before the rough tempest she flies.

But sailors, &c.

The storm came on thicker and faster, As black just as pitch was the sky, When truly a doleful disaster Befel three poor sailors and I.

Ben Buntline, Sam Shroud, and Dick Handsail, By a blast that came furious and hard, Just while we were furling the mainsail, Were every soul swept from the yard.

But sailors, &c.

Poor Ben, Sam, and Dick cried peccavi, As for I, at the risk of my neck, While they sunk down in peace to old Davy, Caught a rope, and so landed on deck.

Well what would you have, we were stranded, And out of a fine jolly crew Of three hundred that sailed, never landed But I and I think twenty-two.

But sailors, &c

After thus we at sea had miscarried, Another guess way sat the wind, For to England I came and got married, To a lass that was comely and kind;

But whether for joy or vexation We know not for what we were born, Perhaps I may find a kind station, Perhaps I may touch at Cape Horn.

But sailors, &c.