Ye ho! says Ben, and he soon brought to, And his boatswain’s whistle out he drew, When the King turn’d round with pride and joy, Halloo! says he, what ship ahoy? Now Ben, he answered with a grin, The Royal Charlotte I’ve sailed in, She was nam’d arter your royal mother, Whose great and glorious son you are. The King the hand of Ben he shook, And said at that time I was a Mid, Then Ben lugged out his ’bacca box, And said to the King, _come take a quid_. If you won’t, the Queen may like a bit, Mayhap, like one of the Indian squaws; So he scrap’d up to her, and offered his box, No thank ye, says she, _I never chaws_. The King he gave promotion to Ben So he thought that he’d steer back again, But the Queen, he thought he first would tell her That her husband the king, was a d----d good fellow! [Illustration] _JACK BINNACLE AND QUEEN VICTORIA._[45] JACK BINNACLE just come from sea, As jolly a tar as ever could be, Hearing with many a joyous smile, That Queen Victoria ruled our isle, Weighed anchor for her palace soon, With honest ardour just in time, Declaring loudly, with a grin, That he’d have a shake at the Royal Fin. _Chorus._ Gaily push the grog about, With mirth we’ll make each cabin shout Let pleasure everywhere be seen, Long life to Britain’s youthful Queen! Away Jack Binnacle then sped, With natty hat upon his head, With slacks and jacket blue, so trim, No tar look’d half so well as him. With shiners too, his purse was stor’d, Besides, he had some grog aboard; He reach’d her palace gates with joy, Where loud he shouted--“Ship, Ahoy!” The guards, amazed, without delay, All sought to drive the tar away; Avast! ye lubbers! then he cries, And spits his quid into their eyes, To see her Queenship, I’ve come afar, I know she’ll not despise a tar; Because, don’t ye see, don’t make a fuss, Her uncle Bill was one of us. In vain they tried to hinder Jack, He bolted into the palace, smack! Pass’d all the Yeomen on the stairs, And on to the state chamber steers. With wonder each one did him view, Jack hitch’d his slacks--cried how d’ye do? All right I hope,--no harm I mean, I’ve come to see our Royal Queen. The Courtiers did not like this rout, And would have put the Jack Tar out, But our good Queen with friendly glance, Desir’d our hero to advance, “What! are YOU Victoria?” Jack then cries, “Lord love your pretty twinkling eyes, Exactly like my Poll, that’s flat, Only as how you’re not so fat.