Where the British seamen are;
"Furl the main-top," "splice the braces."
Pity a Whitechapel Tar!
Nursemaids, from your upper casements
Throw the halfpence freely down;
Cooks from areas and from basements,
On the sailor do not frown.
Bring the joints out, if we ask it,
Distant is the seaman's star;
(Here's the plate! I'll prig the basket).