‘O! aye,’ said John, ‘you Paddies like a joke,
‘So friendly-like, you took a parting Stroke.’
Blue Peter hoisted, and the Wind was fair;
John much refresh’d inhal’d the saline air.
Stretch’d on the Deck, he oft did take his Station,
His empty stomach offer’d no oblation:
His wand’ring thoughts would retrospective cast,
Dwelling on all the Scenes that he had pass’d;
And fancy oft would pleasurably roam
To his lov’d Parents, and his happy Home.