The Sailor

If round the world poor sailors roam, And bravely do their duty, When danger's past they find a home, With each his favourite beauty.

For Nan, and Sue, and Moll, and Bess, And fifty more delight them, And when their honied lips they press, Who says it don't requite them.

If rich he comes, what pleasure then, If Nancy does not share it, If poor, he scorns then to complain, For Nancy too will bear it.

What lubber then like him so gay, His grog drowns all his sorrow, For, dam'me, if it's foul to-day, 'Tis sure to right to-morrow.

He springs on shore, assured to meet The partner lov'd most dearly, In merry dance, with nimble feet, To pipe and tabor chearly.