7
An Orange Tawny up the Straits,
a black at St Lucie;
Thus whatsoever course we bend,
we lead a jovial life
At every mess we find a friend
at every port a wife.
Will Gaffe by Death was ta’en aback,
I came to bring the news
Poll whimper’d sore, but what did Jack?
why stood in William’s shoes.
She cut, I (illegible text)cho s‘d a in the end,
she lov’d me was her life,
So she has got a loving fr’end,
and I a loving wife.
Come all you Sailors that do go,
the unfortunate seas to (illegible text)ru,
You must werk, love and fight your foes,
and drink your generous bub;
Storms that ou masts in splinters tear,
can make our joyous life,
In every want we find a friend,
and every port a wife.
THE BEDS OF ROSES.
As I was a walking one morning in May,
The small birds were singing delightful and gay,
There with my true love did often sport and play,
Down among the bonny Beds of Roses.
