5 A water-tight boat and good sea-room give me, And it a’ent to a little I'll strike; Tho' the tempest top-gallant masts smack smooth should smite And shiver each splinter of wood. Clear the deck, stow the yards, and howse eve- ry thing tight. And under reet d foresail, we!ll scud; Avast—nor dont think me a milk-sop so soft, To be taken for trifles a-back, For they say there's a Providence sits up aloft, To keep watch for the life of Poor Jack. Why t heard the good Chaplain palaver one day About souk, heaven, mercy, and such: And my timbers—what lingo he’d coil and be- lay, Why ’twas just ail as one as High Dutch. Bat he said how a sparrow cant founder, d'ye see, Without orders that comes down below, And many fine things that prov’d clearly to me, That Providence takes us in tow. For says he do you mind me, let storms e’er so oft Take the top-sails of sailors a-back, There’s a sweet little Cherub sits perch’d up
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