The wandering Sailor

The wand'ring sailor ploughs the main, A competence in life to gain, Undaunted braves the stormy seas, To find, at last, content and ease: In hopes, when toil and danger's o'er, To anchor on his native shore.

When winds blow hard, and mountains roll, And thunders shake from pole to pole, Tho' dreadful waves surrounding foam, Still flatt'ring fancy wafts him home; In hopes, when toil and danger's o'er, To anchor on his native shore.

When round the bowl, the jovial crew The early scenes of youth renew, Tho' each his favourite fair will boast, This is the universal toast— May we, when toil and danger's o'er, Cast anchor on our native shore!