Though careless and headlong, if danger should press, And rank’d ’mongst the free list of rovers, Yet he’ll melt into tears at a tale of distress, And prove the most constant of lovers. To rancour unknown, to no passion a slave, Nor unmanly, nor mean, nor a railer, He’s gentle as mercy, as fortitude brave, And this is a true English sailor. _Charles Dibdin._ XXVIII TOM TOUGH My name, d’ye see, ’s Tom Tough, I’ve seed a little sarvice, Where mighty billows roll and loud tempests blow; I’ve sailed with valiant Howe, I’ve sailed with noble Jarvis, And in gallant Duncan’s fleet I’ve sung out ‘Yo heave ho!’ Yet more shall ye be knowing,-- I was coxon to Boscawen, And even with brave Hawke have I nobly faced the foe. Then put round the grog,-- So we’ve that and our prog, We’ll laugh in Care’s face, and sing ‘Yo heave ho!’ When from my love to part I first weigh’d anchor, And she was sniv’ling seed on the beach below, I’d like to cotch’d my eyes sniv’ling too, d’ye see, to thank her, But I brought my sorrows up with a ‘Yo heave ho!’ For sailors, though they have their jokes, And love and feel like other folks, Their duty to neglect must not come for to go; So I seized the capstern bar, Like a true honest tar, And, in spite of tears and sighs, sang out ‘Yo heave ho!’ But the worst on’t was that time when the little ones were sickly, And if they’d live or die the doctor did not know; The word was gov’d to weigh so sudden and so quickly, I thought my heart would break as I sung ‘Yo heave ho!’ For Poll’s so like her mother, And as for Jack, her brother, The boy, when he grows up will nobly fight the foe; But in Providence I trust, For you see what must be must, So my sighs I gave the winds and sung out ‘Yo heave ho!’ And now at last laid up in a decentish condition, For I’ve only lost an eye, and got a timber toe; But old ships must expect in time to be out of commission, Nor again the anchor weigh with ‘Yo heave ho!’ So I smoke my pipe and sing old songs,-- For my boy shall well revenge my wrongs, And my girl shall breed young sailors, nobly for to face the foe;-- Then to Country and King, Fate no danger can bring, While the tars of Old England sing out ‘Yo heave ho!’ _Charles Dibdin._ ANONYMOUS XXIX THE BRITISH GRENADIERS Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules, Of Hector and Lysander, and such great names as these, But of all the world’s great heroes, there’s none that can compare, With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, to the British Grenadier! Those heroes of antiquity ne’er saw a cannon ball, Or knew the force of powder to slay their foes withal; But our brave boys do know it, and banish all their fears, Sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, for the British Grenadiers!