Published Sept. 13, 1808, by LAURIE & WHITTLE, 53, Fleet Street, London.

191

THE SAILOR'S WILL AND HIS POWER;
OR, A PICTURE OF PORTSMOUTH POINT:

Sung with unbounded Applause by Mr. EMERY, at the Harmonic and other Societies.

EARLY one morning a jolly brisk tar,
Signal been made for sailing,
Nimbly stepp'd down, and told his dear,
Who was of her loss bewailing;
Orders are come ship to unmoor,
Boats along-side lay waiting;
Come, come, my dear Molly, for you must
ashore;
For this is no time for prating.

Moll, with her arms around his neck,
Look'd as if life had left her;
To hear such words come from her dear Jack,
Quite of all speech bereft her.
He saw her face began to look wan,
He smil'd at the silly young creature,
'Till from her heart the blood began,
To brighten up every feature.

Molly, my dear, now since I must go,
Why such recoils at parting?
For you may be happy, you very well know,
'Long with other men's wives concerting.
No, no, no; it's no such thing,
I never shall cease from crying;
For I may, perhaps, rejoice and sing,
While you on the deck lay dying.

No sooner she spoke, than old Trincalo's call,
All hands a-hoy, did rattle,
Says Jack, with a smile, come, come, my dear
Moll,
This is no time for prattle;
Boat's along-side, ship's a-weigh,
Poor Molly went snivelling over;
At every step she heav'd a sigh,
Her sighs did her fears discover.

Now afar off, with wat'ry eye,
She beheld the ship a-sailing;
Eager she looks, and thus she cries,
For the loss of her true-love bewailing:
There he goes! that's a good job;
He's being going this quarter of an hour:
My eyes! that the bullets may scuttle his nob,
For I have his Will and his Power.

Now, as along the beach she stray'd,
Quite forgot was poor Johnny,
Eagerly, instantly, off she sped,
Clean into the arms of her Tommy.
Close in her arms she did him embrace,
She call'd him her joy and her honey,
How the hell cou'd you think, that I lov'd that
there man,
'Twas only to finger his money.