Then ’twas thy luck, scarce injur’d, to destroy
The shine of Harry Jones, the Sailor Boy;
’Twas thine from Carroll Pat to strip the bays,
And serve out Cooper Tom in style at Grays,
Floor the swart Gipsy in time double-quick,
And settle the proud hash of Davis Dick;
The veteran Martin soon his colours struck,
And twice Ned Neale was down upon his luck;
And all his senses sent upon a cruise,
It was the luck of Gaynor Tom to lose!