The Can of Flip

To distant shores the breezy wind, The jolly tar from home conveys; No anxious thoughts annoy his mind, Whilst whistling he the sheet belays:

Tho' storms around him loudly roar, And from his jacket brine shall drip, Unmov'd he hears the tempest roar, And takes his can of gen'rous flip.

No silly cares can him oppress, If tight his ship and sea-room clear; Nor on his heart can aught impress, The distant thought of coward fear. Tho' storms around, &c.

Yet when he views his native land, His swelling heart with ardour glows; And as he leaps upon the strand, 'Tis thus his tongue with rapture flows: Nor storms nor tempests her assail, Nor brine shall from my jacket drip, Here love alone shall blow the gale. And we drink cans of gen'rous flip.