THE SAYLOR'S COMPLAINT; OR, THE TRUE CHARACTER OF THE PURSER OF A SHIP.

To the Tune of Iantha, etc.

Of all the curst plagues that e'er Fate did decree
To vex, plague, and punish poor sailors at sea,
There's none to compare with the purser, that evil
Who's worse than a jailer, a bum, or a devil,
Sure when he was framed Dame Nature lay dying;
Hell then took a purge, hell then took a purge,
and Pluto sh-t him flying.

As his name foully stinks, so his butter rank doth smell, Both hateful to sailors, scarce good enough for hell : The nation allows men what's fitting to eat,

But he, curse attend him, gives to us musty meat ;

With bisket that's mouldy, hard stinking Suffolk cheese, And pork cut in pounds, and pork cut in pounds, for to eat with our pease.

Because it is cut off the best fatted hogs

He thinks it too good for eternal lowsie dogs.
Then our urine to purge, that the men may piss clear,
Instead of what's better, his petty-warrant beer
Is by him allowed, which makes us complain;
Which he ne'er regards, which he ne'er regards,
so he gets but the gain.

His oatmeal, or grout, known by the name burgooe,
Is fitting for nothing but make a sailor spew :
His bruis, no better than common kitchen-grease,
The sailors are forced to eat with their pease:

Such beef-fat, so nasty, we constantly use,

That's but fit for the mast, that's but fit for the mast, or the greasing of shoes.

When a sailor's oblig'd to make use of his store

He then must expect to be miserable poor :

For consider what price for their goods we do pay;
He has treble worth of each man, I dare say.

Such dealings as these are not just, I am sure;

Yet such hardships as these, yet such hardships as these we do daily endure.

Now, since he's so friendly, I'd give, as 'tis due,
By way of requital, a kind wish, or two :
And first, may his brandy run all o'er the deck,
And he end his days in a rope with aking neck;
Or may
he still eat, and be never satisfy'd,

Still craving of more, still craving of more,

but be never cloy'd.

And may he have nothing to drink all the year,
When droughth shall attend him, but petty-warrant beer :
May fate ne'er allow him a candle to his cabbin,
And be in the dark by Old Nick taken napping,
And by him or his agents be bore swiftly away,

To plague, vex, and punish, to plague, vex, and punish,
for ever and aye.

May Charon be careful and ferry him o're

To Pluto's grand court on the Stygian shore :
May ten thousand furies still on him attend,
To plague and torment him unto the world's end:
While each jolly sailor, to make themselves merry,
Shall take a full glass, shall take a full glass,
to his passage o'er the ferry.

THE SAILOR'S RESOLUTION TO FIGHT THE SPANIARDS.

A New Song.

What ship, honest brother sailor? You must stop and let us know.
If you're entered or protected, you must tell before you go.
Here's our warrants to impress you. Ne'er repine, my noble

blood;

We don't mean for to oppress you; it's for your king and country's good.

For to humble the proud Spaniards British courage must be

shown,

Or those haughty proud villains will never know what is their

own.

Their men-of-war we'll make to rattle; Spain shall tremble at the sight;

Haste, brave boys, away to battle; the French nor they could never fight.

British courage should never be daunted at the talk of Spanish war[s];

While that seamen they are want[ed] we'll freely enter, like jolly

tars.

For to humble the proud Spaniards we'll sail along so brave and true,

And make the Spaniards to knock under and the French cry out, 'Morbleu.'

So come along, my jolly sailors, enter along with tars so true;
We are the men that fear no dangers, but soon will make the
Spaniards rue.

Success to all our brave commanders that do plough the raging main,

Likewise to our jolly sailors, for to conquer France and Spain.

JACK TAR.

'Come, brave, honest Jack Tar, once more will you venture? Press warrants they are out; I would have you to enter. Take some rich Spanish prize, as we've done before, O.' 'Yes, and be cheated of them all, as we were the last war, O.'

No man that sails with me shall e'er be abused; So, Jack, come and enter; you shall be well used. You shall be boatswain's mate, Jack; so boldly come and enter And not like a dog be haul'd on board of the tender.'

'Dear captain,' he said then, 'don't talk of your pressing; It's not long ago since I gave six of them a dressing.'

I know that very well, Jack: the truth I must grant you; You are a brave, hearty fellow, and that makes me want you.

'Dear captain,' he said then, if the truth I do tell you,
I got so much the last war that it quite fill'd my belly;
For your damn'd rogues of officers they use men so cruel
That a man-of-war is worse than hell or the devil.

'There is the master a-swearing, the boatswain a-growling,
The midshipman a-howling out, "Take that fore-bowling";
If you speak but one word you're a mutinous rascal,
Both your legs laid in irons and try'd by a court-martial.'

Now, boys, we are press'd away from our habitation,
And we leave wife and children in grief and vexation;
We venture our sweet lives in defence of our nation,
And we get nothing for it but toil and vexation.'

THE JOLLY SAILOR'S TRUE DESCRIPTION OF A MAN-OF-WAR.

When first on board of a man-of-war
We go, whether by press or enter,
And alongside of our ship we come,
We boldly in her venture.

Such twigging then at we fresh men.
'They're clever fellows,' some say,

While the buffers stand with their rattans,
Crying, 'Keep down out of the gangway.'

Then aft upon the quarter-deck

We go, it being common;

Our officers examine us, to know

Who and who are seamen ;

There's some are seamen, some are freemen,

Some one thing, some another:

Then we down below on the main deck go,

Boys, after one another.

Next to old Trinculo we go

For an order to get our hammocks,

Then aft again and down amain,

Not forgetting our stomachs.

The steward pens, he takes our names,

And tells us to our messes;

But nipping there they can't forbear,

For the Devil them possesses.

Then up again upon the deck,

So briskly, boys, we bundle;
Since we have secur'd our pack,

We have no cause to grumble.

Then we clap on what we heave upon,

Some piping, others singing:

There's hoist away, likewise belay.

Thus we make a beginning.

When once our ship has got all in,
And nothing now neglected,
To think of sea we do begin,
Our orders soon expected.

Then with a career we get all clear,
In readiness for unmooring,

Boats alongside with wind and tide
To carry the women ashore in.

'All hands, unmoor,' the boatswain calls,
And he pipes at every hatchway;
If you Tom Cockswain's traverse tip him
Take care he don't catch you ;

For without a doubt, if he finds you out,

You may be sure within you,

Over face and eyes, to your surprise
He'll arm you without mercy.

The capstan is already mann'd.
Shall we hear the boatswain hollow?
Sometimes he is listening at a stand
To hear the answers follow.

We have not brought to, there's such ado,
While some are calling the swabbers.

Now heave away without delay,

Boys, hold on the nippers.

The boatswain and his mates are piping,

Crying, Men, have a rally,'

And often forward they are piking

To have a rout in the galley.

'What are you about? Away with us out.'

To leave our victuals we abhor it;

With cuffs and knocks leave kettles and pots, And the Devil cuff them for it.