| First Line |
Page |
Verses |
| Go patter to lubbers and swabs d'ye see |
1-2 |
4 |
| When Jack parted from me, to plough the salt deep |
3-4 |
3 |
| What cheer, my dear Poll---did'nt I tell you as how |
4-6 |
4 |
| Poor Jack, whose gay heart kept his spirits aloft |
6-7 |
4 |
| When, last honest Jack, of whose fate I now sing |
8 |
3 |
| I'm a brisk jolly tar, and just going to sea |
9-10 |
4 |
| Adieu, adieu, my only life |
10-11 |
3 |
| Let bucks and let bloods to praise London agree |
11-13 |
3 |
| If, bold and brave, thou can'st not bear |
13-14 |
3 |
| Lovely woman, pride of nature |
14-15 |
3 |
| Wind was hush'd, the storm was o'er, The |
15-16 |
4 |
| Except the folks that's fast asleep |
16-17 |
4 |
| If the beauty of truth unadorned is seen best |
17-18 |
3 |
| Since by cutting off tribes all our glories increase |
19 |
4 |
| Bards call themselves a heav'nly race |
20-21 |
4 |
| Two real tars, whom duty call'd |
21-22 |
4 |
| Young Shenkin was born in Glamorganshire |
22-23 |
3 |
| Tar's a jolly tar that can hand reef and steer, The |
23 |
3 |
| I'm dashing Dick, the dustman |
24--26 |
4 |
| So sweet I'll dress my Zootka fair |
26-27 |
3 |
| Avert yon omen, gracious heav'n! |
27-28 |
3 |
| Blest friendship, hail! Thy gifts possessing |
28-29 |
3 |
| Jack dances, and sing, and is always content |
30 |
5 |
| Good people, attend to my lay |
31-32 |
5 |
| Patrick O'Row is my name |
33--34 |
5 |
| We bipeds, made up of frail clay |
35-36 |
4 |
| To ask wou'd you come for to go |
36-38 |
4 |
| Bold Jack the Sailor here I come |
38-39` |
5 |
| Would you hear a sad story of woe |
39-40 |
4 |
| I'm jolly Dick the lamplighter |
40-41 |
4 |
| Hark, the din of distant war |
41-42 |
3 |
| I was the pride of all the Thames |
42-44 |
4 |
| As cross the field the other morn |
44-45 |
3 |
| While high the foaming surges rise |
45-46 |
3 |
| Ye lovers of fashion, ye belles and ye beaux |
46 |
3 |
| Come, ye wasting sons of care |
46-47 |
3 |
| You may talk of a brogue, and of Ireland (sweet nation) |
47-48 |
3 |
| Tho' Bacchus may boast of his care-killing bowl |
49-50 |
7 |
| Up among yon cliffy rocks |
50-51 |
3 |
| When first I ken'd young Sandy's face |
51-52 |
5 |
| When the fancy stirring bowl |
52-53 |
4 |
| Returning from the fair one eve |
54 |
3 |
| Come, come, my jolly lads |
55 |
2 |
| Twas in a village near Castlebury |
56 |
3 |
| On Richmond Hill there lives a lass |
57 |
3 |
| When I took my departure from Dublin's sweet town |
57-59 |
6 |
| Anacreon in Heav'n, where he sat in full glee |
60-62 |
6 |
| No more I'll court the town bred fair |
62 |
4 |
| To my muse give attention, and deem it not mystery |
63-65 |
9 |
| In the praise of Queen Bess lofty strains have been sung, sir |
66-69 |
10 |
| Tight lads have I sail'd with, but none e'er so sightly |
6970 |
4 |
| Moment Aurora peep'd into my room, The |
71-72 |
5 |
| Hard, hard are the times, is the cry, tis no wonder |
72-74 |
11 |
| I was, d' ye see, a waterman |
74-76 |
4 |
| Encompass'd in an angel's frame |
76-77 |
4 |
| I am a jolly fisherman |
77 |
3 |
| See the course throng'd with gazers, the sports are begun |
78-80 |
4 |
| Now blest the maid whose bosom |
80 |
2 |
| Tho' the fate of battle on tomorrow wait |
81-82 |
11 |
| You're welcome to Paxton, Robin Adair |
83 |
4 |
| I sing the British seaman's praise |
83-85 |
7 |
| I'm a vot'ry of Bacchus, his godship adore |
86 |
3 |
| In storms when clouds obscure the sky |
87 |
3 |
| Come loose ev'ry sail to the breeze |
88 |
4 |
| Sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day, The |
88-89 |
4 |
| Rose-tree full in bearing, A |
89-90 |
2 |
| Dear is my little native vale |
90 |
3 |
| For tenderness fashion'd, in life's early day |
91 |
3 |
| Moon had clim'd the highest hill, The |
91-92 |
4 |
| Meadows look charming, thebirds sweetly sing, The |
92-93 |
2 |
| Her mouth, which a smile |
93 |
2 |
| When bidden to the wake or fair |
93-94 |
2 |
| By moonlight on the green |
94-95 |
3 |
| Wealthy fool, with gold in store, The |
95-96 |
3 |
| With a cheerful old friend, and a merry old song |
96 |
3 |
| When the chill Sirocco blows |
97 |
3 |
| When Jove was resolv'd to create the round earth |
97-98 |
6 |
| When Britain first, at Heav'n's command |
99-100 |
6 |
| Ye jobbers, underwriters, ye tribe of pen and ink |
100-102 |
6 |
| Tinker I am, my name's Natty Sam, A |
102-103 |
4 |
| This, this my lad's a soldier's life |
103-104 |
3 |
| Plague of these musty old lubbers, A |
104-105 |
4 |
| Jack Ratlin was the ablest seaman |
105-106 |
3 |
| When it is night, and the mid-watch is come |
106-107 |
2 |
| Sweet Poll of Plymouth was my dear |
107-108 |
3 |
| When Edward first heard Poll of Plymouth was dead |
108-109 |
6 |
| Lawyers pay you with words, and fine ladies with vapours |
109-110 |
3 |
| Whilst happy in my native land |
110-111 |
2 |
| Top-sails shiver in the wind, The |
111-112 |
4 |
| No topsail shivers in the wind |
112-113 |
4 |
| Somehow my spindle I mislaid |
113 |
3 |
| Ma chere amie, my charming fair |
114 |
3 |
| No flower that blows is like this rose |
114 |
2 |
| Love's a bubble, courting trouble |
115 |
4 |
| Ere bright Rosina met my eyes |
115-116 |
3 |
| That girl who fain wou'd chuse a mate |
116-117 |
6 |
| Young Jocky he courted sweet Moggy so fair |
117-118 |
6 |
| World, my dear Mira, is full of deceit, The |
118 |
4 |
| Voyage over seas had not enter'd my head, A |
119 |
3 |
| Oh say simple maid, have you form'd any notion |
119-120 |
4 |
| Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen |
121 |
4 |
| Blush of Aurora now tinges the morn, The |
122 |
3 |
| How imperfect is expression |
123 |
3 |
| All you who wou'd wish to succeed with a lass |
123-124 |
4 |
| Wand'ring sailor ploughs the main, The |
124-125 |
3 |
| Then farewell my trim built wherry |
125 |
3 |
| Sleep on, sleep on, my Kathleen dear |
126 |
2 |
| Thus, thus, my boys, our anchor's weigh'd |
126-127 |
4 |
| Twins of Latona, so kind to my boon, The |
127-128 |
3 |
| Ye landsmen draw near, and ye sportswomen too |
128-129 |
3 |
| As you mean to set sail for the land of delight |
129-130 |
5 |
| How happy's the soldier who lives on his pay |
130-131 |
3 |
| You know I'm your priest and your conscience is mine |
131-132 |
5 |
| Adieu, thou dreary pile! where never dies |
132 |
1 |
| While on the village green |
132-133 |
3 |
| I sail'd in the good ship Kitty |
133 |
4 |
| Never till now I knew love's smart |
134 |
5 |
| Flaxen-headed cow-boy, A |
134-135 |
4 |
| Merry may the maid be |
136-137 |
4 |
| At Totterdown-hill there dwelt an old pair |
137-138 |
4 |
| What beauties does Flora disclose? |
138-139 |
4 |
| Whilte the lads fo the village shall merrily ah |
140 |
3 |
| Sing the loves of John and Jean |
140-142 |
6 |
| While up the shrouds the sailor goes |
142-143 |
4 |
| When Yanko, dear, fight far away |
143 |
4 |
| Bed of moss we'll straight prepare, A |
144 |
3 |
| By rouguery 'tis true |
144-145 |
6 |
| Wine, wine we allow the brisk fountain of mirth |
146-147 |
5 |
| When first a maid within her breast |
147-148 |
5 |
| When trees did bud, and fields were green |
148-149 |
3 |
| Silver moon's enamour'd beam |
149-150 |
4 |
| How blithe was I each morn to see |
150-151 |
6 |
| My sheep neglected, I lost my sheep-hook |
152 |
3 |
| No more my song shall be, ye swains |
152-153 |
4 |
| Echoing horn calls the sportsman abroad, The |
153-154 |
2 |
| Last Valentine's day, when bright Phoebus shone |
154-155 |
6 |
| Since love is the plan |
156 |
2 |
| Tho' Leixlip is proud of its close shady bowers |
156-157 |
4 |
| When the sheep are in the fauld |
157-159 |
9 |
| Summer it was smiling, all nature round was gay |
159-161 |
8 |
| How blest has my time been? |
161-162 |
3 |
| As bringing home the other day |
162-163 |
3 |
| What virgin or shepherd, in valley or grove |
163-164 |
3 |
| When I was a younker, and liv'd with my dad |
164-165 |
3 |
| On town is just like a barber's shop |
165-166 |
6 |
| Songs of shepherds in rustical roundelays |
167-168 |
6 |
| When the men a courting came |
169-170 |
5 |
| Will ye gang o'er the lee-rig |
170 |
4 |
| Assist me, ye lads, who have hearts void of guile |
171 |
5 |
| Sun from the east, tips the mountains with gold, The |
172-173 |
3 |
| Dear Tom, this brown jug that now foams with mild ale |
173 |
3 |
| Blow high, blow low, let tempests tear the mainmast by the board |
174 |
3 |
| Bright Phoebus has mounted the chariot of day |
174-175 |
3 |
| Sweet-scented beau, and a simp'ring young cit, A |
175-176 |
3 |
| My bonny sailor's won my mind! |
176-177 |
3 |
| Life's like a sea in constant motion |
177-178 |
4 |
| Wou'd you know, my good friends, what the honey-moon is |
178-179 |
3 |
| How sweet in the woodlands, with fleet hounds and horn |
180 |
2 |
| When fairies dance round on the grass |
180-181 |
5 |
| Pounds, shillings, pence, and farthings |
181-182 |
3 |
| While o'er the raging roaring seas |
182-183 |
2 |
| Contented I am, and contented I'll be |
183 |
4 |
| Wine, wine is the liquor of life |
184 |
2 |
| Monster in England's a very fine show, A |
185-186 |
6 |
| My Nancy leaves the rural train |
186 |
2 |
| Says Plato, why should man be vain |
187 |
3 |
| Ye scamps, ye pads, ye divers, and all upon the lay |
188-189 |
6 |
| My love was once a bonny lad |
189-191 |
3 |
| Farewell to Lochaber, and farewell, my Jean |
191-192 |
3 |
| When my money was gone that I gain'd in the wars |
192-193 |
6 |
| With my jug in one hand, and my pipe in the other |
193-194 |
2 |
| Dans votre lit, my Fanny say |
194 |
4 |