- Go, patter to lubbers and swabs, do you see,
- 'Bout danger, and fear, and the like;
- A tight-water boat and good sea-room give me,
- And it an't to a little I'll strike.
- Though the tempest top-gallant mast smack smooth should smite,
- And shiver each spliter of wood,
- Clear the deck, stow the yards and house every thing tight,
- And under reefed foressail we'll scud:
- Avast! nor don't think me a milksop so soft,
- To be taken for trifles aback;
- For they say there's a providence sits up aloft,
- To keep watch for he life of poor Jack!
- I heard our good chaplain palaver one day
- About souls, heaven, mercy, and such;
- And, my timbers! what lingo he'd coil and belay;
- Why, 'twas just all as one as High Dutch;
- For he said how a sparrow can't founder, d'ye see,
- Without orders that come down below;
- And a many fine things that proved clearly to me
- That providence takes us in tow:
- For, says he, do you mind me, let storms e'er so oft
- Take the topsais of sailors aback,
- There's a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft,
- To keep watch for the life of poor Jack!
- I said to our Poll -- for, d'ye see, she would cry --
- When last we weighed anchor for sea,
- What argufies snivelling and piping your eye?
- Why, what a damned fool you must be!
- Can't you see, the world's wide, and there's room for us all,
- Both for seamen and lubbers ashore?
- And if to old Davy I should go, friend Poll,
- You never will hear of me more.
- What then? All''s a hazard: come, don't be so soft:
- Perhaps I may laughing come back;
- For, d'ye see, there's a cherub sits smiling aloft,
- To keep watch for the life of poor Jack!
- D'ye mind me, a sailor should be every inch
- All as one as a piece of the ship,
- And with her brave the world, not offering to flinch
- From the moment the anchor's a-trip.
- As for me, in all weathers, all times, sides and ends,
- Nought's a trouble from duty that springs,
- For my heart is my Poll's, and my rhino's my friend's,
- And as for my life, 'tis the king's.
- Even when my time comes, ne'er believe me so soft,
- As for grief to be taken aback,
- For the same little cherub that sits up aloft
- Will look out a good berth for poor Jack!
-
Charles Dibdin