Shepherd's daughter (1)/The sailor's return

THE SAILOR’S RETURN.

Let Fops pretend in flames to melt,
And talk of pain they never felt,
We Sailors scorn disguise and art,
And with our hands bestows our heart.

Let Ladies prudishly deny,
Look cold, and give their tongue the lye,
I own the passion in my breast,
And long to make my lover bless’d.

For this the Sailor on the mast,
Endures the cold and cutting blast,
All dropping wet throughout the night,
And braves the fury of the fight.

For this the Virgin pines and sighs,
With throbbing heart and streaming eyes,
’Tis sweet rivers of joy he proves,
And clasps the tender lad she loves.

Ye British youths, be brave, you’ll find,
The British Virgins will prove kind:
Protect their beauty from all harms.
And they’d reward you with their charms.

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