Sailor lads has gold and silver,

Fisher lads has nought but brass,
Well I love my sailor laddie,
Because I am a sailor's lass.
Oh! my bonny, etc.

Our noble Captain's gone to London,
Oh! preserve them from the press,
Send him safely back to Terry,
There to court his bonny lass.
Oh! my bonny, etc.

How can I be blythe and merry,
And my true love so far from me,
When so many pretty sailors,
Are prest, and taken to the sea.
Oh! my bonny, etc.

When my love, he was in Terry,
He came and saw me once a night;
But now he's prest to the St. Ann's,
And is kept quite out of my sight.
Oh! my bonny, etc.

Oh! I wish the press was over,
And all the wars was at an end;
Then every bonny sailor laddie
Would be merry with his friend.
Oh! my bonny, etc.

Here has been so much disturbance,
Our sailor lads dare not look out,
For to drink with their own lasses,
Or to have a single rout.

Oh! my bonny, etc.

My love, he's a bonny laddie,
Blythe and merry may he be,
If the wars were at an end,
He would come and marry me.
Oh! my bonny etc.

Some delight in jol farmers,
Some delight in soldiers free;
But my delight's in a sailor laddie,
Blythe and merry may he be.
Oh! my bonny, etc.

Oh, I wish the war was over,
And peace and plenty come again,
Then every bonny sailor laddie,
Would come sailing o'er the main.
Oh! my bonny, etc.

If the wars they were all over,
And all our sailors were come home,
Then every lass would get her laddie,
And every mother get her son.
Oh! my bonny, etc.

Come you by the Buoy and Nore,
Or come you by the Roperie,

Saw you of my love sailing,

Oh, saw you him coming home to me.
Oh! my bonny sailor laddie,
Oh! my bonny sailor, he,

Well I love my sailor laddie,
my sailor he loves me.

And

SONG TO MARY

THE topsails shiver in the wind,
The ship she casts to sea;
But yet my soul, my heart, my mind,
Are, Mary, moored with thee:
For, though thy sailor's bound afar,
Still love shall be his leading star.

Should landsmen flatter when we're sailed,

O doubt their artful tales;

No gallant sailor ever failed,
If Cupid filled his sails:

Thou art the compass of my soul

Which steers my heart from pole to pole.

Sirens in every port we meet,

More fell than rocks and waves;
But sailors of the British fleet,
Are lovers, and not slaves,
No foes our courage shall subdue,
Although we've left our hearts with you.

These are our cares; but, if you're kind,
We'll scorn the dashing main,
The rocks, the billows, and the wind,
The powers of France and Spain.
Now Britain's glory rests with you,
Our sails are full-sweet girls adieu.

CAPTAIN THOMSON

THE NORTH COUNTRY COLLIER

At the head of Wear Water, about twelve at noon,
I heard a maid a-talking and this was her tune,
There are all sorts of callings, in every degree,
But of all sorts of callings a collier for me.

You may know a jolly collier as he walks on the street, His clothing is so handsome, and so neat are his feet, With teeth as white as ivory, and his eyes as black as sloes,

You may

know a jolly collier wherever he goes.

You may know a jolly collier: he's a swaggering young

blade,

When he goes a-courting of his buxom fair maid,

With his lips he so flatters her, and he spends his money

free,

You may know a jolly collier wheresoever that he be.

You may know a jolly collier as he sails the salt sea;
As he ploughs the wide ocean he sets his sails three,
The foresail for to lift her, and the mainsail to drive,
And the little pretty crojick for to make her steer wild.

I'll build my jolly collier a castle on a hill,

Where neither Duke nor Squire can work me any ill, For the Queen can but enjoy the King, and I can do the same,

And I am but a sheep-girl, and who can me blame?

THE BOLD PRIVATEER

O, FARE you well, my Polly dear, since you and I must part,

In crossing of the seas, my love, I'll pledge to you my

heart;

For our ship she lies waiting, so fare you well, my dear, For I just now am going aboard of a bold privateer.

She said, "My dearest Jemmy, I hope you will forbear, And do not leave your Polly in grief and in despair; You'd better stay at home with the girl you love so dear, Than venture on the seas your life in a bold privateer.

You know, my dearest Polly, your friends they do me slight;

Besides, you have two brothers would take away my life; And from them I must wander, myself to get me clear, So I am just now going aboard of a bold privateer.

And when the wars are over, if God does spare our lives, We will return safe back again to our sweethearts and our wives,

And then I will get married to my charming Polly, dear, And forever bid adieu to the bold privateer.

TOM BOWLING

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.

Tom never from his word departed,
His virtues were so rare;

His friends were many and true-hearted,
His Poll was kind and fair:
And then he'd sing so blithe and jolly,
Ah, many's the time and oft!

But mirth is turned to melancholy,
For Tom is gone aloft.

Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weather,
When He, who all commands,

Shall give, to call life's crew together,

The word to pipe all hands.

Thus Death, who kings and tars despatches,

In vain Tom's life has doff'd,

For, though his body's under hatches,

His soul has gone aloft.

CHARLES DIBDIN