Here shall I die a-shore,—
This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man’s funeral: well, here’s my comfort. Drinks.
[Sings. The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,
45 The gunner, and his mate,
Loved Mall, Meg, [and Marian], and Margery,
But none of us cared for Kate;
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a sailor, Go hang!
II. 2. 50 She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch;
Yet a tailor might scratch her where’er she did itch.