"'Ye ho!' says Ben, and he soon brought-to,
And his boatswain's whistle out he drew;
When the King turn'd round with pride and joy,
'Halloo!' says he 'what ship ahoy?'
"Now Ben, he answered with a grin,
'The Royal Charlotte I've sailed in;
She was nam'd arter your royal mother,
Whose great and glorious son you are!'
The King the hand of Ben he shook,
And said, 'At that time I was a Mid;'
Then Ben lugged out his 'bacca box,
And said to the King, 'Come, take a quid.'
"'If you won't, the Queen may like a bit,
Mayhap, like one of the Indian squaws;'
So he scrap'd up to her, and offered his box,
'No, thank ye,' says she, 'I never chaws.'
"The King, he gave promotion to Ben,
So he thought that he'd steer back again;
But the Queen, he thought he first would tell her,
'That her husband, the King, was a d—d good fellow'!"
Par parenthèse, here is a story of a sailor (Times, August 9th)—
"Guildhall. Before Alderman Ansley.—An old tar, the very beau ideal of a 'true British sailor,' who gave his name as Will Robinson, his dark visage surmounted with a quantity of black hair, twisted and matted like so many ropes' ends, was charged with being drunk and assaulting the patrol of Aldgate Ward.
"Bunce, the complainant, stated that between three and four o'clock the preceding evening, he found the tar stretched keel uppermost upon the footway in Aldersgate Street, exposed, not altogether decently, to the gaze of a crowd of idle boys. Bunce roused him, and advised him to move on; but, instead of obeying, Will ordered him to sheer off, or he'd pour a broadside into him; and, suiting the action to the word, commenced pummelling complainant most furiously. Bunce would have had no chance against the heavy metal of Will Robinson, but Hawkins, the marshal-man, came up, and with his aid the tar was secured in the Compter. While they were on the way, the tar contrived to get his pocket-knife open in his hand, but Hawkins perceived it and took it from him.
"'You hear what the officer says?' observed the alderman, addressing the prisoner.
"'Yes; but it is a d—d lie,' roared out Will Robinson, enforcing his assertion by a loud thump of his clenched fist upon the bar.