Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Come, Bustle, Bustle

Come, Bustle, Bustle.

Come, bustle, bustle, drink about, And let us merry be;Our can is full, we'll see it out, And then all hands to sea.    And a sailing we will go, will go;    And a sailing we will go.

Fine miss at dancing school is taught The minuet to tread;But we go better when we've brought The fore-tack to cathead.          And a sailing, &c.

The jockey's called to horse, to horse, And swiftly rides the race;But swifter far we shape our course When we are giving chase.          And a sailing, &c.

When horns and shouts the forest rend, The pack the huntsmen cheer,As loud we holloa when we send A broadside to Mounseer.          And a sailing, &c.

With gold and silvei- streamers fine, The ladies' rigging show;But English ships more grandly shine, When prizes home we tow.          And a sailing, &c.

What's got at sea we spend on shore With sweethearts and with wives,And then, my boys, hoist sail for more; Thus sailors pass their lives.    And a sailing they do go, do go;    And a sailing they do go. 1782.