Classic Poem

Go , patter to lubbers and swabs, do ye see,
— 'Bout danger, and fear, and the like;
A water-tight boat and good sea-room for me,
— And it ain't to a little I'll strike.
Though the tempest topgallant-masts smack smooth should smite,
— And shiver each splinter of wood, —
Clear the deck, stow the yards, and house everything tight,
— And under reefed foresail we'll scud:
Avast! nor don't think me a milksop so soft
— To be taken for trifles aback;
For they say there's a Providence sits up aloft,
— To keep watch for the life of poor Jack!

I heard our good chaplain palaver one day
— About souls, heaven, mercy, and such;
And, my timbers! what lingo he'd coil and belay;
— Why, '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 to me
— That Providence takes us in tow:
" For, " says he, " do you mind me, let storms e'er so oft
— Take the topsails of sailors aback,
There's a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft,
— To keep watch for the life of poor Jack! "

I said to our Poll, — for, d'ye see, she would cry,
— When last we weighed anchor for sea, —
" What argufies sniveling and piping your eye?
— Why, what a blamed fool you must be!
Can't you see, the world's wide, and there's room for us all,
— Both for seamen and lubbers ashore?
And if to old Davy I should go, friend Poll,
— You never will hear of me more.
What then? All's a hazard: come, don't be so soft:
— Perhaps I may laughing come back;
For, d'ye see, there's a cherub sits smiling aloft,
— To keep watch for the life of poor Jack! "

D'ye mind me, a sailor should be every inch
— All as one as a piece of the ship,
And with her brave the world, without offering to flinch
— From the moment the anchor's a-trip.
As for me, in all weathers, all times, sides, and ends,
— Naught's a trouble from duty that springs,
For my heart is my Poll's, and my rhino's my friend's,
— And as for my will, 'tis the king's.
Even when my time comes, ne'er believe me so soft
— As for grief to be taken aback;
For the same little cherub that sits up aloft
— Will look out a good berth for poor Jack!