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O! if ten thousand fine girls I could see,
None should enjoy my love but thee,
O then says Molly since you are so true,
I will ne'er wed, love, I will ne'er wed, love,
I will ne'er wed, love, one alive but you.
Then this young couple they did part,
Fear was the grief of true loves smart,
So he took shipping and away he went,
And left poor Molly, and left poor Molly,
And left poor Molly, in tears to lament.
THE BUSY CREW.
THE busy Crew their sails unbending,
the ship in harbour safe arriv'd,
Jack Oakham all his perils ending,
had made the port where Katty liv'd.
His rigging no one dare attack it,
tight fore and aft, above, below,
Long quarter'd shoes, check shirt, blue jacket,
with trowsers like the driven snow.
His honest heart with pleasure glowing,
he flew like light'ning to the side,
Scarce had he been a boat's length rowing,
before his Katty he espy'd.
A flowing-pennant gaily flutter'd,
from her neat made hat of straw,
Red was her cheek, when first she utter'd,
it was her sailor that she saw.
And now the gazing crew surround her,
while secure from all alarms,
Swift as a ball from a nine pounder,
they dart into each other's arms.
Printed by J. & M Robertson, Saltmarket. 1802.
