To catch the first glimpse of my lights—
I’m the Boy at the Nore.
I never gets cold in the head,
So my life on salt water is sweet,—
I think I owes much of my health
To being well used to wet feet—
As the Boy at the Nore.
There’s one thing, I’m never in debt:
Nay!—I liquidates more than I oughtor[1];
So the man to beat Cits as goes by,