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THE
DISCONSOLATE SAILOR.
When my money was gone
which I gain’d in the wars,
And the world ’gan to frown on my fate,
What matter'd my zeal,
or my honoured ſcars,
When in difference ſtood at each gate:
The face that would ſmile,
when my purſe was well lin’d,
Show’d a different aſpect to me:
And when I could naught but ingratitude find,
I fled once again to the ſea.
I thought it unwiſe to repine at my lot,
or to bear with cold looks on the ſhore,
S‘ I pack’d up the trifling remnants I got,
and a trifle, alas! was my ſtore.
A handkerchief held all the treaſure I had,
which over my ſhoulder I threw;
Awa then I trudg'd with a heart rather ſad
to join with ſome jolly ſhip’s crew.
