THE BUSY CREW,
��THE bufy crew their fails unbending The fliip in harbour fafe arriv'd, Jack Oakham all his peqls ending, Had made the fpot where Kitty liv'd.
��His rigging no one dare attack it, Tight fore and aft, above, below,
Long quarter 'd fhoes, check fhirt, blue jacket, With troufers like the driven fnow.
��His honeft heart with pleafure glowing, He flew like lightning to the fide,
Scarce had they been a boat's length rowing, Before his Kitty he efpy'd
��A flowing pennant gaily fluttered From her neat hat made of ftraw,
Red was her cheek when firft me utter'd, It was her failor that me faw.
��And now the gazing crew furroand her, While fecure from all alarms,
Swift as a ball from a nine pounder, They dart into each other's arms.
��THE
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