Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Every Bullet has its Billet

←

Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878
edited by J. C. Hutchieson

Every Bullet has its Billet

→

4078447Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878 — Every Bullet has its BilletJ. C. Hutchieson

Every Bullet Has Its Billet.

I'm a tough true-hearted sailor, Careless and all that, d'ye see,Never at the times a railer— What is time or tide to me?All must die when fate shall will it, Providence ordains it so:Every bullet has its billet,— Man the boat, boys—Yeo, heave yeo!

"Life's at best a sea of trouble, He who fears it is a dunce;Death to me's an empty bubble, I can never die but once. Blood, if duty bids, I'll spill it; Yet I have a tear for woeEvery bullet has its billet,—Man the boat, boys—Yeo, heave yeo!

Shrouded in a hammock, glory Celebrates the falling brave;Oh, how many, famed in story, Sleep below in ocean's cave!Bring the can, boys—let us fill it; Shall we shun the fight? Oh, no!Every bullet has its billet,—Man the boat, boys—Yeo, heave yeo!