In the same case, hard is our fa’:
He’s a surgeon’s son, who came from Crief
Shelter to seek and some relief.
Then poor sick Lewis was called in,
With head bound up, he look’d right grim,
And by his master there he did stand,
With head uncover’d, bonnet in hand:
But the Captain urg’d him to sit down,
And put his bonnet on his crown,
Since there are no strangers here,