Napoleon's embargo Is laid on all cargo Which comfort or aid to King George may intend; And since roll, twist and leaf, Of all comforts is chief, They try for to steal it from poor honest men! With no heart for fight, We take refuge in flight But fire as we run, our retreat to defend, Until our stern-chasers Cut up her fore-braces, And she flies up the wind from us poor honest men! Twix' the Forties and Fifties, South-eastward the drift is, And so, when we think we are making Land's End, Alas! it is Ushant With half the King's Navy, Blockading French ports against poor honest men! But they may not quit station (Which is our salvation), So swiftly we stand to the Nor'ard again; And finding the tail of A homeward-bound convoy, We slip past the Scillies like poor honest men. Twix' the Lizard and Dover, We hand our stuff over, Though I may not inform how we do it, nor when. But a light on each quarter Low down on the water Is well understanded by poor honest men! Even then we have dangers, From meddlesome strangers, Who spy on our business and are not content To take a smooth answer, Except with a handspike ... And they say they are murdered by poor honest men! To be drowned or be shot Is our natural lot, Why should we, moreover, be hanged in the end-- After all our great pains For to dangle in chains As though we were smugglers, not poor honest men? 'WHEN THE GREAT ARK' When the Great Ark, in Vigo Bay, Rode stately through the half-manned fleet, From every ship about her way She heard the mariners entreat-- 'Before we take the seas again, Let down your boats and send us men! 'We have no lack of victual here With work--God knows!--enough for all, To hand and reef and watch and steer, Because our present strength is small. While your three decks are crowded so Your crews can scarcely stand or go. 'In war, your numbers do but raise Confusion and divided will; In storm, the mindless deep obeys Not multitudes but single skill; In calm, your numbers, closely pressed. Do breed a mutiny or pest. 'We, even on unchallenged seas, Dare not adventure where we would, But forfeit brave advantages For lack of men to make 'em good; Whereby, to England's double cost. Honour and profit both are lost!' PROPHETS AT HOME Prophets have honour all over the Earth, Except in the village where they were born. Where such as knew them boys from birth, Nature-ally hold 'em in scorn. When Prophets are naughty and young and vain, They make a won'erful grievance of it; (You can see by their writings how they complain), But O, 'tis won'erful good for the Prophet! There's nothing Nineveh Town can give (Nor being swallowed by whales between), Makes up for the place where a man's folk live, Which don't care nothing what he has been. He might ha' been that, or he might ha' been this, But they love and they hate him for what he is. JUBAL AND TUBAL CAIN