A SEAMAN'S SONG.

1

Come all you Joval Seaman, with Courage Stout & bold
that Value more your Honour, than Mysers do their Gold
When we Receive Our Orders, we are Oblig^d to go
O'er the Main to Proud Spain, Let the Winds Blow high or Low.

2

It was the fifteenth of September, from Spithead we Sat Sail
we had Rumbla in our Company, Blest with a Pleasant Gale
we Sailed away together, for the Bay of Biscay, o
Going along Storms Come on, and the winds Began to Blow.

3

The winds and Storms increas^d the Bumbla Bore away
and left the Cantaborough, for No Longer Could She Stay
& when they Came to Gibralter, they told the People So
that they thought we were Lost, in the Bay of Biscay, O.

4

But as Providence would have it, it was not quite so Bad
But first we lost our Missen Mast, and then went off our Flag
the Next we Lost our Main Mast, one of our Guns also
With five Men, Drowned then, in the Bay of Biscay, O.

5

The Next we Lost our foremast, which was a Dreadfull Stroke
and in our Larboar Quarter, a Great hole there was Broke
and then the Seas come Roleing in, our Gun Room it Did flow
Thus we Rold and we told, in the Bay of Biscay, O.

6

It was Dark and Stormy Weather, Sad and Gloomy Night
Our Captain on the Quarter Deck, that Day was kill^d Outrite
the Rings that on his fingers were, in Pieces burst Also
Thus we were in Dispare, in the Bay of Biscay, O.

7

But when we Came to Gibralter, and lay in our New Hold
the People they Came flocking Down, our Ship for to Behold
they Said it was the Dismalest Sight, that Ever they Did know
We never Pind, But Drunk Wine, till we Drowned all our Woe.

A COUNTRY SONG.

1

On the Sweet Month of May we'll Repair to the Mountain
And Set we Down there by a Clear Crystial fountain
Where the Cows sweetly Lowing In a Dewy Morning
Where Phebus oer the Hills and Meddow are Adorning.

2

A Sweet Country Life is Delightfull and Charming
Walking abroad in a Clear Summer's Morning
O your Towns and Your Cities Your Lofty high Towers
Are not to be Compar,d with Shades & Green Bowers.

3

O Little I regard your Robes and fine Dresses
Your Velvets & Scarlets and Other Excesses
My own Country Fashions to me is More Endearing
Than your Pretty Prisemantle or your Bantle Cloth