Avast!--my jaw I must belay, I hopes you’ll pardon what I say, I sailed with your good Uncle Bill, Whose memory I do honour still, So, as I’ve heard, you’re Captain now, I thought I’d come and make my bow, And, as I have got lots of prog, Would your Queenship take a glass of grog?” Our lovely Queen seemed to enjoy The joke, which did her guests annoy; For Queen Victoria, who can blame, Loves all her subjects just the same. Jack full an hour there did stay, Then cried, as he rose to go away, Poking a quid between his jaws, “I s’pose your Majesty never chaws?” Then off went Jack, to the sign of the Ship, And ordered a galore of flip, Declaring loudly he did mean To swim in grog to the health of the Queen. Many a tar then joined hand, Cans were filled, hands grasp’d each hand, So then they shouted with such glee, To Queen Victoria--three times three. [Illustration] _SWEET WILLIAM._ AS I was a walking along the sea shore, Where the breezes blow cool and the billows do roar, A ship I espied on the proud swelling main, That brought me my true love to England again. The boat came on shore and my true love did land, With his tarpawling jacket, and bundle in hand; Saying presents I’ve brought you from East and from West, Because you’re the maiden that I love the best. I have shawls and rich laces, and fine golden rings, And rubies and pearls, and fifty fine things; For since you’ve proved loyal and constant to me, I have come back to England to marry with thee. Oh, then round her fair neck his arms he did throw, And glad tears of joy from her eyelids did flow, Saying William, dear William, thou’rt welcome to me, For many long months have I watchéd for thee. O, come my dear Sailor, and let us begone, My father and mother are waiting at home, To see my dear sailor how glad they will be, For they prayed for your safety while you were at sea. Then come, my dear girl, to the Church let’s away, And we shall be wedded without more delay, I’ve riches in store, love, when thou art my wife, To make us contented and happy for life. _THE POOR SMUGGLER’S BOY._ ONE cloudy morning, as I abroad did steer, By the wide rolling ocean that runs swift and clear, I heard a poor creature, that in sorrow did weep, Saying, O, my poor father is lost in the deep. My father and mother once happy did dwell, In a neat little cottage they rearéd me well; Poor father did venture all on the salt sea, For a keg of good brandy, for the land of the free. For Holland we steer’d while the thunder did roar, And the lightning flash’d vivid when far, far, from shore, Our ship, mast, and rigging, were blown to the wave, And found, with poor father, a watery grave.