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But if vapours and whims, like sea-sickness, prevail,
You must spread all your canvas, and catch the fresh gale,
For, if brisk blows the wind, and there coats a rough sea,
You must lower your top-sail, and scud under lee.
If husbands e’er hope to live peaceable lives,
They must reckon themselves, give the helm to their wives;
For the smoother we sail, boys, we’re safest from harm,
And on shipboard the head is still rul’d by by the helm.
Then list to your pilot, my boys, and be wise;
If my precepts you scorn, and my maxims despise,
A brace of proud antlers your brows may adorn,
And a hundred to one, but you double Cape Horn.
THE PLOWMAN.
The plowman he’s a bonny lad,
His mind is ever true,
