Modern Beau/Bill Bobstay

BILL BOBSTAY.

TIGHT lads have I sail'd with, but none e'er so sightly
as honest Bill Bob Bobstay, so kind and so true;
He'd sing like a mermaid and foot it so light'y,
the forecastle's pride, the delight of the crew:
But poor as a beggar, and often in tatters,
he went tho' his ⟨fortune⟩ was kind without end,
For money, c y'd Bill, and them their sort of matters,
what’s the good on't d'ye s e, but to succour a friend?

There's Nipcheese, the purser, by grinding and squeezing,
first plundring then 'eaving the ship like a rat:
The eddy of fortune stands on ⟨stiff⟩ breeze in,
and mounts, fierce as fire a doz-vane in his hat.
My bark, thought hard storms on life's ocean should rock her,
though she rolls in misfortunes and pi ch end for end,
No, never shall Bill keep a shot in the locker,
when by handing it out he can succour a friend.

Let them throw out their whips, and cry, spite of the crosses,
and forgetful of toil that so hardly they bore;
That "Sailors at sea earn their money ⟨like⟩ horses,
"to squander it idly like asses ashore"
Such lubbers their jaw would coil up, could t ey measure
by their feeling the gen'rous delight without end,
That gives birth in (illegible text) to that truest of pleasure,
the handing our (illegible text) to succour a friends,

Why, what's all this nonsense they talks of add pother,
all about rights of men, what a plague are they at?
If they means that each man to his messma e's a brother,
why the lubberly swabs! every ⟨fool⟩ can tell that.
The rights of u Britons, we knows to be loyal,
in our country’s defence our last moments to spend:
To fight up to the ears to protect the blood royal,
To be true to our wives—and to succour a friend.