In Thomas and Sally

A VAST, my boy, avast, all hands on shore, Mess-mate, what cheer? Old England, hey once more, I'm thinking how the wenches will rejoice; Out with your presents, boys, and take your choice; I've an old Sweetheart—but look—there's the town: Weigh anchor, tack about and let's bear down.

From plowing the ocean and thrashing Mounseet, In Old England we're landed once more; Your hands, my brave comrades, holloo boys, what cheer? For a Sailor that's just come ashore:

Those hectoring blades thought to scare us no doubt, And to cut us and flash us—Morblieu! But hold there, avast, they were plaguily out, We have slic'd them and pepper'd them too.

Then courage my hearts, your own consequence know, Yon invaders shall soon do you right, The Lion may rouse when he hears the cock crow, But should never be put in a fright.

You've only to shun your nonsensical jars, Your damn'd party and idle contest; And let all your strife be, like us honest Tars, Who shall fight for his country best.

A seafaring spark, if the maids can effect, Bid the simpering Gipsies look to't; Sound bottoms they'll find us in ev'ry respect, And our pockets well laden to boot.

The landsmen, may hap, in the way of discourse Have more art to persuade and the like; But 'ware those false colours; for better for worse Is the bargain we're willing to strike.

Now long live the King, may he prosperous reign Of no power, no faction afraid; May Britain's proud flag still exult o'er the main, At all points of the compass display'd.

No quicksands endanger, no storms overwhelm, Steady, steady and safe may she sail; No ignorant Pilots e'er sit at her helm, Or her anchor of liberty fail.