Songs of the Late Charles Dibdin: With a Memoir

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Harrison and son, 1850 - 328 страница
 

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Страница 303 - When Britain first, at Heaven's command, Arose from out the azure main ; This was the charter of the land, And guardian angels sung this strain : " Rule, Britannia, rule the waves; Britons never will be slaves!
Страница xvi - twas just all as one as High Dutch; For he said how a sparrow can't founder, d'ye see, Without orders that come down below; And a many fine things that proved clearly...
Страница 254 - I view Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue. Though battle call me from thy arms Let not my pretty Susan mourn; Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms William shall to his Dear return. Love turns aside the balls that round me fly, Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye.
Страница 255 - Now the dreadful thunder's roaring, Peal on peal contending clash, On our heads fierce rain falls pouring, In our eyes blue lightnings flash. One wide water all around us, All above us one black sky...
Страница 252 - Oh ! where shall I my true love find ? Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true, If my sweet William sails among the crew?
Страница 254 - CEASE, rude Boreas, blustering railer ! List, ye landsmen all, to me ; Messmates, hear a brother sailor Sing the dangers of the sea...
Страница 137 - twas Saturday night : Some sweetheart or wife that he loved as his life Each drank while he wish'd he could hail her ; But the standing toast that pleased the most Was — The wind that blows, the ship that goes, And the lass that loves a sailor...
Страница 26 - HERE, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling, The darling of our crew; No more he'll hear the tempest howling, For Death has broached him to. His form was of the manliest beauty. His heart was kind and soft; Faithful below he did his duty, But now he's gone aloft.
Страница xiv - Bout danger, and fear, and the like; A tight water boat and good sea room give me, And it ent to a little I'll strike; Though the tempest topgallant masts smack smooth should smite, And shiver each splinter of wood, Clear the wreck, stow the yards, and bouse everything tight, And under reefed foresail we'll scud: Avast!
Страница xv - There's a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft, To keep watch for the life of poor Jack!

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