| First Line |
Page |
Verses |
| Bards call themselves a heav'nly race |
3-4 |
4 |
| Two real tars, whom duty call'd |
4-5 |
4 |
| If, bold and brave thou canst not bear |
6 |
3 |
| Lovely woman, pride of nature |
7 |
3 |
| Wind was hush'd, the storm was over, The |
8-9 |
4 |
| Except the folks that's fast asleep |
9-10 |
4 |
| So sweet I'll dress my Zootka fair |
10-11 |
3 |
| Avert yon omen, gracious heav'n! |
11-13 |
3 |
| Flaxen-headed cow-boy, A |
13-14 |
4 |
| Merry may the maid be |
14-15 |
5 |
| When first a maid within her breast |
16 |
5 |
| I'm jolly Dick the lamplighter |
17-18 |
4 |
| As cross the field the other morn |
18-19 |
3 |
| While high the foaming surges rise |
19-20 |
3 |
| Come, ye wasting sons of care |
20 |
3 |
| On Richmond Hill there lives a lass |
21 |
3 |
| Since love is the plan |
21-22 |
2 |
| Echoing horn calls the sportsman abroad, The |
22 |
2 |
| This, this my lad's a soldier's life |
23 |
3 |
| Jack Ratlin was the ablest seaman |
24 |
3 |
| I was, d' ye see, a waterman |
25-27 |
4 |
| I am a jolly fisherman |
27-28 |
3 |
| How blest the maid whose bosom |
28-29 |
2 |
| In storms when clouds obscure the sky |
29-30 |
3 |
| Come loose ev'ry sail to the breeze |
30-31 |
3 |
| Dear is my little native vale |
31-32 |
3 |
| Moon had clim'd the highest hill, The |
32-33 |
4 |
| By moonlight on the green |
33-34 |
3 |
| Wealthy fool, with gold in store, The |
34-35 |
2 |
| When Britain first at Heav'n's command |
35-36 |
6 |
| Plague of these musty old lubbers, A |
36-38 |
4 |
| Blest friendship, hail! thy gifts possessing |
38-39 |
3 |
| Patrick O'Row is my name |
39-41 |
9 |
| We bipeds, made up of frail clay |
41-42 |
4 |
| Silver moon's enamour'd beam, The |
42-43 |
4 |
| As bringing home the other day |
44 |
3 |
| When the men a courting come |
44-45 |
5 |
| Life's like a sea in constant motion |
46-47 |
4 |
| Wou'd you know, my good friends, what the honey-moon is |
47-48 |
3 |
| When fairies dance round on the grass |
48-49 |
5 |
| Pounds, shillings, pence, and farthings, I |
49-50 |
3 |
| While o'er the raging roaring seas |
50-51 |
2 |
| Wine, wine is the liquor of life |
51-52 |
4 |
| My Nancy leaves the rural train |
52 |
2 |
| My love was once a bonny lad |
52-54 |
5 |
| Says Plato, why should man be vain |
54-55 |
3 |
| When my money was gone that I gain'd in the wars |
55-56 |
6 |
| Dans votre lit, my Fanny say |
56-57 |
4 |
| Ye jobbers, underwriters, ye tribes of pen and ink |
57-59 |
6 |
| Tinker I am, my name's Natty Sam, A |
59-60 |
4 |
| Bold Jack the Sailor here I come |
60-61 |
5 |
| When the fancy stirring bowl |
61-63 |
5 |
| Returning from the fair one eve |
63-64 |
3 |
| Come, come, my jolly lads! |
64-65 |
2 |
| Whilst happy in my native land |
65-66 |
2 |
| Somehow my spindle I mislaid |
66 |
3 |
| Ma cherie amie, my charming fair |
66-67 |
3 |
| No flower that blows is like this rose |
67 |
2 |
| Love's a bubble, courting trouble |
67-68 |
4 |
| That girl who fain wou'd chuse a mate |
68-69 |
6 |
| You may talk of a brogue, and of Ireland (sweet nation) |
69-70 |
3 |
| Sing the loves of John and Joan |
71-72 |
6 |
| I sail'd in the good ship Kitty |
72-73 |
4 |
| What beauties does Flora disclose? |
73-74 |
4 |
| While up the shrouds the sailor goes |
74-75 |
5 |
| When Yanko, dear, fight far away |
75-76 |
4 |
| Bed of moss we'll straight prepare, A |
76 |
3 |
| If the beauty of truth unadorned is seen best |
77 |
3 |
| How pleasant a sailor's life passes |
78-79 |
3 |
| I am a jolly gay pedlar |
79-80 |
3 |
| By roguery 'tis true |
80-81 |
6 |
| I'm dashing Dick, the dustman |
81-83 |
5 |
| Top-sails shiver in the wind, The |
83-84 |
4 |
| No topsail shivers in the wind |
84-85 |
4 |
| O say simple maid, have you form'd any notion |
85-86 |
4 |
| Lawyers pay you with words, and fine ladies with vapours |
87-88 |
3 |
| Her mouth, which a smile [sic] |
88-89 |
2 |
| When bidden to the wake or fair |
89 |
2 |
| Incompass'd in an angel's frame |
89-90 |
2 |
| Our fathers left a race of Kings |
90 |
3 |
| I hate that d[r]um's discordant sound |
90-91 |
2 |
| Proud Monarchs rais'd to wear a crown |
91-92 |
4 |
| Blow high, blow low, let tempests test the mainmast by the board |
92-93 |
3 |
| I sing the British seaman's praise |
93-95 |
7 |
| Sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day, The |
96 |
4 |
| When the chill Sirocco blows |
97 |
3 |
| When Jove was resolv'd to create the round earth |
97-99 |
6 |
| When I was a younker, and liv'd with my dad |
99-100 |
3 |
| London town is just like a barber's shop |
100-101 |
5 |
| How blithe was I each morn to see |
101-102 |
6 |
| Adieu, thou dreary pile! where never dies |
103 |
1 |
| When little on the village green |
103 |
3 |
| Ere bright Rosina met my eyes |
103-104 |
3 |
| Sweet Poll of Plymouth was my dear |
104-105 |
3 |
| When Edward first heard Poll of Plymoth was dead |
105-106 |
6 |
| Will ye gang o're the lee-rig |
106-107 |
4 |
| Never till now I knew love's smart |
107-108 |
5 |