SONGS OF THE MENDICANTS.
No. 1.—THE SAILOR BEGGAR'S SONG.
I'm a jolly London sailor;
Gaily still I keep afloat,
With the picture of a Whaler,
And the model of a boat.
True, I ne'er was on the Ocean,
But I've travelled wide and far,
Kept by the police in motion.
Pity a Whitechapel Tar!
Shivered are my timbers, stranger;
Lame, you see, is poor Jack Junk:
Yes, I got this, braving danger,
(Falling from a scaffold drunk).
On my forehead see depicted
Valour's honourable scar
('T was with a pint pot inflicted).
Pity a Whitechapel Tar!
Glazed my hat and blue my jacket,
White my trowsers, loose my tie;
Seaman's costume, when I lack it,
Down at Houndsditch I can buy.
Naval talk I've learnt in places
Where the British seamen are;
"Furl the main-top," "splice the braces."
Pity a Whitechapel Tar!
Nursemaids, from your upper casements
Throw the halfpence freely down;
Cooks from areas and from basements,
On the sailor do not frown.
Bring the joints out, if we ask it,
Distant is the seaman's star;
(Here's the plate! I'll prig the basket).
Pity a Whitechapel Tar!
Toast and Water.—A Toast proposed at a Temperance Meeting.