Spendthrift clapt into limbo, or, the rake reclaim'd/On Board of a Man of War

On BOARD of a MAN of WAR.

COme all ye jolly fellows, come, quickly come,
At the ſound of a trumpet & beat of a drum,
To range on the ocean we all will comply,
Our wives and our miſtreſſes we'll freely paſs by,
We'll ſhip ourſelves off, our fortunes to try,
⁠⁠On board of a man of war.

⁠You lads that's got maſters that don't give your
Take our advice and join in our crew (due,
You lads that fear limbo for drinking of ſtrong ale,
Come a Volunteer and we'll enter in bail,
And pay off your debt with a flying top-ſail,
⁠⁠On board of a man of war.

⁠Of a moon ſhining night when we're plowing the
Whilft you ſilly landmen are lying aſleep, (deep,
Perhaps the next morning we take a rich prize,
Remitting the French gold to our miſtreſſes & wires,
And thus in great pleaſure we ſpend all our lives,
⁠⁠On board of a man of war.

⁠Our anchor we weighed and ſail'd on a cruise,
With rum, ſtip and bumbo, we merrily did bouze,
We hoiſted our Jack, and our Pendant let fly,
A fig for the French dogs that dare us come nigh,
Whilſt fire on board is all our whole cry,
⁠⁠On board of a man of war.

To the wooden walls of Britain ſtraight we'll repair,
You cowardly Frenchmen and Spaniards beware,
The admiral's a-coming, we'll ſoon get relief,
We'll make you return what ye ſtole like a thief,
While the Lion is rouſed he'll be your whole chief,
⁠⁠On board of a man of war.

⁠Now ſince brave Vincent is ſailing the deep,
We'll make them cry marblew wherever we weet,
At the bounce of a cannon and beat of a drum,
We'll frighten all our enemies wherever we come,
To ſerve royal George we will die by the gun,
⁠⁠On board of a man of war.

⁠Come all you brave failors and boldly advance,
For it is high time to conquer proud Frances
Take courage my hearts, & our coaſts we will clear,
Their ſides we'll ſhatter, & their rigging we'll tear,
And thus we'll rejoice while they die in deſpair,
⁠⁠On board of a man of war.

⁠Take courage my lads and don't be afraid,
The French to attack for the good of our trade,
While trempets do ſound and the cannons do roar,
Our ſhot like the hail upon them we'll pour,
And thus we'll rejoice while they die in deſpair,
⁠⁠On board of a man of war.

⁠When we return to the Old Britiſh ſhore,
With our golden priz s, we'll drink, ſing and roar,
While trumpets do ſound, and bells they do ring,
Good tidings of victory to Britain do bring,
At every huzza, we cry, God ſave the King,
⁠⁠On board of a man of war.

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Glaſgow, Printed by J. & M. Robertſon,

Saltmarket, 1801,