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We fail'd in the good (hip, the Kitty,
With a frefli blowing breeze and rough fea ;
There's my Nancy, whom they call fo pretty, Safe moor'd at an anchor, Yeo, Yea.
She utter'd foft words when we parted,
I'd have you be conftant, faid fhe ; Said I, my dear, don't be down-hearted,
Then up went our anchor, Yeo, Yea.
From that time, no worfe nor no better, For nothing was thought of but fhe ;
Could grog or gin make me forget her, She's my cable and anchor, Yeo, Yea.
THE HEAVING OF THE LEAD.
~OOR England when with fav'ring gale, -I? Our gallant fliip up channel fleer'd, And fcudding under an eafy fail, The high blew .weftern land appear'd.
To heave the lead the feamen fprung,
And to the pilot cheerly fung, " By the Deep Nine!"
And bearing up to gain the port,
Some well-known object kept in view,
An abbey -tower, an harbour-fort, Or beacon to the veflel true.
While oft the lead the feaman flung,
And to the pilot cheerly fung, " By the Mark Seven.!"
And as the much-lov'd ftiore draw'd near,
With tranfport we behold the roof, Where dwelt a friend or partner dear, Of faith and love a matchleis proof. The lead once more the feaman flung, And to the watchful pilot lung, " Quarter-lefs Five !"
LOVELY
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