I.
To all you ladies, now at land,
We men at sea indite,
But first would have you understand,
How hard it is to write;
The Muses now, and Neptune too,
We must implore to write to you,
With a fa, la, la, la, la.
II.
For tho' the Muses should prove kind,
And fill our empty brain;
Yet if rough Neptune rouze the wind,
To wave the azure main,
Our paper, pen and ink, and we,
Roll up and down our ships at sea,
With a la fa, &c.
III.
Then if we write not, by each post,
Think not, we are unkind;
Nor yet conclude our ships are lost,
By Dutchmen or by wind:
Our tears, we'll send a speedier way,
The tide shall waft them twice a day.
With a fa, &c.
IV.
The king with wonder, and surprize,
Will swear the seas grow bold;
Because the tides will higher rise,
Then e'er they did of old:
But let him knew it is our tears,
Bring floods of grief to Whitehall-Stairs.
With a fa, &c.
V.
Should foggy Opdam chance to know;
Our sad and dismal story;
The Dutch would scorn so weak a foe,
And quit their fort at Goree:
For what resistance can they find,
From men who've left their hearts behind.
With a fa, &c.