Some Other Songs

Some other traditional songs.

"Spanking Jack"

Spanking Jack was so comely, so pleasant, so jolly
Tho' winds blew great guns still he'd whistle and sing
Jack lov'd his friend, and was true to his Molly,
And if honor gives greatness, was great as a king:
One night, as we droe with two reefers in our mainsail
And the scud came on low'ring upon a lee shore
Jack went aloft for to hand the top ga'ant sail,
A spray wash'd him off, and we ne'er saw him more
But grieving's a folly,
Come let us be jolly;
If we've troubles at sea, boys, we've pleasures ashore

Bonny Ben was to each jolly messmate a brother,
He was manly and honest, good natur'd and free;
If ever one tar was more true than another
To his friend and his duty, that sailor was he:
One day with the davit, to heave the cadge anchor
Ben went in a boat on a bold craggy shore,
He overboard tipt, when a shark and a spanker
Soon nipt him in two, and we ne'er saw him more
But grieving's a folly,
Come, let us be jolly;
If we've troubles at sea boys, we've pleasures ashore.

Whiffing Tom, still full of mischief of fun in the middle,
thro' life in all weathers at random would job
He'd dance and he'd sing, and he'd play on the fiddle
And swig, with an air, his allowance of grog:
Long side of a Don, in the Terrible frigate
As yard arm and yard arm we lay off the shore
In and out Whiffing Tom did so caper and jib it
That his head was shot off and we ne'er saw him more
But grieving's a folly
Come let us be jolly
If we've troubles at sea boys, we've pleasures ashore

But what of it all lads: Shall we be downhearted
Because that mayhap we now take our last sup?
Life's cable must one day or other be parted;
And death, in fast mooring, will bring us all up
Yet 'tis always the way on't--one scarce finds a brother
Fond as pitch, honest, hearty, and true to the core
But by battle or storm, or some fell thing or other,
He's popp'd off the hooks, and we ne'er see him more
But grieving's a folly,
Come let us be jolly
If we've troubles at sea boys, we've pleasures ashore1

1See "Spanking Jack" in "Spanking Jack and other Songs," a songbook bound with other songbooks under the title of "Songs," Library Company of Philadelphia, 1805.

“Thimble’s Wife,”

Thimble’s scolding wife lay dead,
‘Heigho!”says Thimble,
‘My dearest duck’s defunct in bed;
Death has cabbaged her—oh, she’s fled!
With her roley poley,
Gammon and spinnage,
Heigho!’ says Thimble,
Thimble buried his wife that nigh;
‘Heigho!’ says Thimble,
“I grieve to sew up my heart’s delight,
With her diamond ring on her finger tight;’
And her roley, poley, &c

To saw off her finger and steal the ring,
Soon came the Sexton;
She sat up an end, and she gave a fling,
Crying ‘Damme, you dog, you steal no such thing!’
With your roley poley, &c
And off ran the sexton.
She stalk’d to her home, and she made a din,
‘Heigho!’ cried Thimble,
Then popp’d out his head, and said, with a grin,
‘You are dead, dearest duck, and I can’t let you in’
With your roley poley, &c
‘O heigh!’ cried Thimble.

“The Glasses Sparkle on the Board,”

The glasses sparkle on the board,
The wine is ruby bright,
The reign of pleasure is restor’d,
Of ease and gay delight.

The day is gone, the night’s our own,
Then let us feast the soul;
If any pain or care remain,
Why drown it in the bowl.
If any pain or care remain,
Why drown it in the bowl.

This world they say ‘s a world of woe,
But that I do deny;
Can sorrow from the goblet flow,
Or pain from beauty’s eye?
The wise are fools, with all their rules,
When they would joy control;
If life’s a pain, I say again,
Let’s drown it in the bowl.
If life’s a pain, &c.

That time flies fast, the poet sings,
Then surely it is wise,
In rosy wine to dip his wings,
And seize him as he flies:
This night is ours, then strew with flow’rs
The moments as they roll;
If any pain, or care remain,
Why drown it in a bowl.
If any pain, or care remain,
Why drown it in a bowl.


When Gen’rous Wine.

When gen’rous wine expands the soul,
And pleasure hovers roubnd the bowl,
Avaunt, avaunt, ye cares of fancy’s crew,
And give the guilty wretch his due:
Avaunt ye cares, &c.

But let the juice of sparkling wine,
My grosser sense to love refine;
As Jove his nectar drinks above,
I’ll quaff whole goblets full of love,
As Jove his nectar, &c

Then why should I at life repine,
Bring me Venus, bring me wine;
Fill the ever flowing bowl,
In circles gay and pleasures roll,
Fill the ever flowing, &c.

Ever open, ever free,
Hail thou friend of jollity;
My brows with Bacchus’ chaplets crown’d,
I live to love, my cares are drown’d.’
My brows with Bacchus, &c.

“Songster’s Museum”—NY, 1824

Friend and Pitcher,

The wealthy fool with gold in store,
Will still desire to grow richer
Give me but health, I ask no more
My charming girl, my friend and pitcher.
My friend so rare, my girl so fair,
With such, what mortal can be richer,
Give me but these, a fig for care,
With my sweet girl, my friend and pitcher

From morning sun I’d never grieve,
To toil a hedger or a ditcher,
If that, when I came home at eve,
I might enjoy my friend and pitcher
My friend so rare, &c.

Though fortune ever shun my door,
I know not what can thus bewitch her;
With all my heart can I be poor,
With my sweet girl, my friend and pitcher,
My friend so rare &c

Cruel

Oh! Cruel were my parents as tore mylove from me,
And cruel was the press-gang who took him off to sea,
And cruel was the little boat as rowed him from the strand,
And cruel was the great big ship as sailed him from the land.
Singing too rol loo rol loo rol, too rol loo rol loo

Oh! Cruel was the water as bore her love from Mary,
And cruel was the fair wind as wouldn’t blow contrary,
And cruel was the captain boatswain, and the men,
As didn’t care a fardin, if we never met again.
Singing too rol, &c

Oh!cruel was the splinter as broke my deary’s leg,
Now he’s oblig’d to fiddle for’t, and I’m oblig’d to beg,
A vagabonding vagrant, and a rantipoling wife,
We fiddle, limp, and scrape it, through the ups anddowns of life.

Singing too rol, &c