Yet tho’ peaceful the course which for some time I shap’d,
I felt that my gas had not wholly escap’d;
My luck once again I was anxious to try,
And with a true trump to turn out for a shy.
The rest, Bobs, we knows, and I scorn all self praise,
And I’d troubles sufficient the needful to raise;
And, faith, I had almost despaired of a fight,
When Young Dutch Sams came forward, and made it all right.
Then we’ll meet at his cribs, Bobs, and go the whole hogs,
In despatching his malts, his Virginny, and grogs,