On a Little Boy Going to Play on a Place from Whence He Had Just Fallen

So the wreckd mariner who tos'd on shore
Hears the wind whistle and the billows roar
Hous'd in some humble cot he vows in vain
Never to trust the faithless deep again
But warm'd and cloath'd to the first port repairs
And in a can of flip forgets his fears.
The Seamens Register he hastes to seek
And sets his name to sail within a week
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