The Poor Cabin Boy

No lark that e'er whistled aloft o'er the downs Was more cheerful or blithesome than I, 'Till fate lost my pleasure with fortune's rude frowns, And caus'd my poor heart for to sigh: For father he died, and friends turn'd me adrift On the billows my time to employ; To weather life's voyage I've made many a shift, Altho' but a Poor Cabin Boy.

I've oft' times remember'd the maxim of old As a loose to my sorrows I gave, That love's not worth having when purchas'd for gold, Or friendship, where interest's a slave: So contented I've brav'd the rude storms, dry or wet, Buoy'd up with hope's flattering joy, That fortune perchance might yet not forget To smile on the Poor Cabin Boy.

Now three years elaps'd 'ere our vessel was bound To England again for to steer; My heart felt with raptures new life at the sound, My eyes dropt with pleasure a tear: But, alas! adverse fate, like false friends, prov'd untrue, And soon did my wishes destroy, For wreck'd was our ship by the tempest's rude wind, And the hopes of the Poor Cabin Boy.

Yet thro' fortune's smiles I again reach'd the shore, And sought my companions to find; But the friends of my youth were dispers'd or no more, Or scarce left a relict behind: If this be life's fate, with a sigh, I reply'd, May heav'n soon my hours employ, And give that fond blessing which here is deny'd, To the orphan, or Poor Cabin Boy.