Bid tabbies go carry themselves and be d⸺d.
IV.
And you flashy captains who oft go recruiting,
’Mongst England’s brisk widows, fond daughters and wives,
Leave war for a peace, and don’t be after shooting
Of Frenchmen, to frighten them out of their lives.
What’s honour and glory to flush ready rhino,
Without which no captain can keep up the ball,
Quick march to Peru, the sweet spot you and I know,
Fill your bellies with full pay and half-pay and all.