Now to conclude and make an end In a full flowing brimmer; Let every one drink to his friend; The bowl it seems to look thinner. We’ll drink again, like sons of men, And drink bad luck to the purser; He cheats us with ease of our oatmeal and pease: Such rogues there can’t be worser. _NEW SEA SONG._ Our boatswain calls out for his bold British heroes; Come, listen awhile to what I do sing; Let every man toss off his full bumper And drink a good health unto George our King, And drink a good health to Suke, Moll, and Kitty; With mirth and good liquor we’ll lead merry [lives]; We will not be afraid to kiss, or to venture, On Saturday night, to our sweethearts and wives. Our ship she is in harbour, brought safe to an anchor; The boats are alongside, they begin for to throng; The girls that are in them, they are crying for husbands; The one sings out ‘Jemmy,’ the other [calls] ‘John,’ Whilst the other bawls out, ‘Where is my dear Harry? [If] I do not see him, may I never thrive!’ Alongside of those girls you may lie, but not marry, On Saturday night, to our sweethearts and wives. Our ship she is unrigged, all ready for docking; Straightway on board of those hulks we repair, Where we work hard all day, and at night go a-kissing. Jack Tar is safe moor’d in the arms of his dear. Straightway to the town of Venus we will venture Our spirits to freshen, our bodies to thrive; We will not be afraid to kiss, nor yet venture On Saturday night to our sweethearts and wives. Our ship she is all rigg’d and ready for sea, boys; The girls that’s on board they begin to look blue; The boats are alongside to take them on shore, boys; Says one to the other, ‘Girls, what shall we do?’ Then we put to sea, with a fresh-blowing breeze, boys, And through the foaming white billows do [roar]; We paid off all debts with the flying fore-topsail. Bid adieu to these girls and the rogues on the shore. Now we are on the seas, like bold hearts of thunder; Now we are on the seas we will rant and roar; We will make all the French and the Spaniards knock under When our two-and-thirties begin for to roar. For to handle their dollars my fingers are itching; If I don’t be at them may I never thrive; We will not be like misers, to hoard by our riches, But we will spend them on shore with our sweethearts and wives. _THE HUMOURS OF THE ROYAL BILLY._ Come, all ye young fellows, attend to my song; It will make you to smile, tho’ tis not very long. I will tell you the truth, how I first went to sea, And what there befel, if you’ll listen to me: My story will please you, if right understood, And you surely will laugh at poor Robin Hood.