BALLAD. (Yet though I've no fortune to offer)

Yet though I've no fortune to offer, I've something to put on a par; Come then, and accept of my proffer, 'Tis the kind, honest heart of a tar.

Ne'er let such a trifle as this is, Girls, be to my pleasures a bar, You'll be rich, though 'tis only in kisses, With the kind, honest heart of a tar.

Besides, I am none of your ninnies; The next time I come from afar, I'll give you your lap full of guineas, With the kind, honest heart of a tar.

Your lords, with such fine baby faces, That strut in a garter and star, Have they, under their tambour and laces, The kind, honest heart of a tar?

I have this here to say, now, and mind it, If love, that no hazard can mar, You are seeking, you'll certainly find it, In the kind, honest heart of a tar.