And his flag-ship has gone a bit shaky, and so
JOHN BULL, who's now full of low shopkeeping cares,
And thinks more of the Stocks than of naval affairs,
Regards not "Old Memories," that "eat off their head."
Turn old cracks out to grass? No, let's sell 'em instead!
A ship's like the high-mettled racer once sung
By that same dashing DIBDIN of patriot tongue,
Grown aged, used up, is he honoured? No, zounds!
"The high-mettled racer is sold to the hounds!"
And so with a barky of glorious name,