Jack in His Element

Bold Jack the sailor, here I come, Pray how do you like my nib? My trowsers white, and trampers rum, My nab and flowing jib; I sail the seas from end to end, And lead a joyous life, At every mess we find a friend, At every port a wife.

I have heard them talk of constancy, Of grief, and such like fun; I have constant been to ten, cry'd I, But never griev'd for one; The flowing sails we tars unbend, To lead a roving life, In every mess we find a friend, At every port a wife.

I've a spanking wife at Portsmouth gate, A pigmy at Goree, An orange tawny up the Straights, A black at Saint Lucie; Thus whatsoever course we bend, We lead a jovial life, In every mess we find a friend, At every port a wife.

Will Gaffe by death was ta'en a-back I came to bring the news, Poll whimper'd sore, but what did Jack, Why stood in William's shoes: She cut, I chac'd, and in the end She lov'd me as her life, So she has got an honest friend, And I a loving wife.

Come all you sailors that do go The unfortunate seas to rub, You must work, love, and fight your foes And drink your gen'rous bub; Storms that our masts in splinters tear, Can take our joyous life, In every want we find a friend, In every port a wife.