Fair maid in bedlam, or, The deceitful Irish boy/Davy Jones's Locker

DAVY JOKES’S LOCKER.

WHen last honest Jack, of whose fate I now sing,
weigh’d anchor and cast out for sea,
For he ne'er refus’d for his country and King
⁠to fight, for no lubber was he;
To hand, reef, & steer, & house every thing tight,
⁠full well did he know every inch,
Tho’ the toplifts of sailors the tempest should smite,
⁠Jack never was known for to flinch.

CHORUS.

Tho’ the toplifts of sailors the tempest should smite,
⁠Jack never was known for to flinch.

Aloft from the mast head one day he espy’d
⁠seven sail, which appear’d to his view,
Clear the decks, spunge the guns, was instantly cry’d,
⁠and each to his station then flew;
And fought until many a noble was slain,
⁠and silenced was every gun,
’Twas then that old English valour was vain,
⁠for by numbers, alas! I they’re undone.
Chor. ’Twas then that old Englifh valour was vain,
⁠for by numbers, alas! they’re undone.

Yet think not bold Jack, tho' by conquest dismay’d,
⁠could tamely submit to his fate;
When his country he found he no longer could serve,
⁠looking round, he addrefs’d thus each mate,
What’s life, d’ye see, when our liberty’s gone,
⁠much nobler it were for to die,
So now for old Davy, then plung’d in the main,
⁠ev’n the cherub above heav’d a sigh.

CHORUS.

So now for old Davy, then plung'd in the main,
⁠e’en the cherub above heav’d a sigh.