As a true Sailor, brisk and cheery;
That like a breeze my voice has rung,
And waked the Commons, dull and weary.
I'm little now to mirth inclined,
I'm not, as usual, gay and jolly,
But care I'll whistle down the wind,
And try to make it square with Solly.
You see 'twas getting on for night,
And true-bred tars, e'en midst carouses,
Think with considerate delight