Close ×

Search EBBA

Advanced Search

EBBA 33965

National Library of Scotland - Crawford
Ballad XSLT Template
The Jolly Sailors true Description of a
MAN of WAR.

WHEN first on board a Man of War,
We go, whether by press or enter,
And along-side of our ship we come,
We boldly did her venture.
Such twigging then at we fresh men:
There clever fellows some say;
While the buffers stand with their rattans,
Crying keep down out of the gangway.

Then aft upon the quarter deck.
We go it being common;
Our officers examine us, to know
Who and who are seamen;
There's some are seamen, some are freemen,
Some one thimg, some another:
Then we down below on the main-deck go,
Boys after one another.

Next to old Tinculo we go,
For an order to get our hammocks,
Then aft again and down amain,
Not forgetting our stomach.
The steward pens he takes our names,
And tells to us our messes.
But nipping there they can't forbear,
For the devil them possesses.

Then up again upon the deck,
So briskly boys we bundle;
Since we have well secured our pack,
We have no cause to grumble.
Then we clap on what we have upon,
Some piping, other's singing:
There's hoist away, likewise be gay,
Thus we make a beginning.

When once our ship has got all in,
And nothing now neglected,
To think of sea we do begin,
Our orders soon expected.
Then with a career we got all clear,
In readiness for unmooring,
Boats along-side in wind and tide,
To carry the women ashore in.

All hands unmoor the boatswain calls,
And he pipes at every hatch-way;
If you Tom Cockswain traverse tip him,
Take care he don't catch you.
Fot without doubt, if he find you out
You may be sure within you,
Over face and eyes to your surprise,
He'll harm you without mercy.

The capstain is already mann'd,
Shall we hear the boatswain hollow?
Sometimes he is listening at a stand,
To hear what answers follow.
We have not brought to, there's such ado,
While some are calling the swabbers
Now heave away without delay,
Boys hold on the nippers.

The boatswain and his mates are piping,
Crying, men have a rally:
And often forward they are piking,
To have a rout in the galley.
What are you all about? away with us out,
To leave our victuals we abhor it;
With cuffs and knocks leave kettles and pots
And the Devil cuff them for it.

Heave, and in sight men heave away
From forward the boatswain is calling
Heave a turn or two without delay;
Stand by the capstan for pealing.
Then one and all to the cart do fall;
We haul both strong and able;
'Till presently from forward they cry,
Below, stick out the cable.

We cast our anchors then with speed,
And nimbly pass the stoppers,
Then next to fish him we proceed,
Our shank painter so proper.
Which we do pass securely fast,
And clap well on a seizing,
Our anchors be sure can't be too secure,
It stands to sense and reason,

When once our ship it is unmor'd,
Our swelling sails so neatly,
With foretack and main-tack also,
Our sheets haul'd after compleatly.
Then away we sail with a fresh gale,
On a voyage or on a station,
Like English hearts we'll play our parts,
In defence of the Btitish nation.

The best cry that we like to hear,
On board, as I'm a sinner,
Is when from the quarter-deck they call
To the boatswain to pipe to dinner.
Such crowding then among the men,
Some grumble, others jangle:
You're nobody there without you swear,
And boldly stand the wrangle.

There's green horn fellows, some on board
Before ne'er saw salt water:
When come to sea, upon my word,
The case with them does alter.
They better know how to follow the plow,
With good fat bacon and cabbage;
When sea-sick took, like death they look,
Ready to bring up guts and garbage.

When stormy winds begin to blow,
Our ship is in great motion.
To carry our victuals safe down below,
It requires a good motion.
We often fall down the hatch-way with all,
From the top to the bottom lie sprawling;
Such laughing then among the men,
And loudly the butcher calling.

There are snotty boys of midshipmen,
Han't yet done shitting yellow;
As to their age some hardly ten,
Strike many a brave fellow.
Who dare not prate at any rate,
Nor seem in the reast to mumble,
They'll strap you still think what you will,
It is but a folly to grumble.

Now to conclude and make and end,
In a full flowing brimmer,
Let everyone drink to his friend,
The bowl it seems to look thinner.
We'll fill it again like sons of men,
And drink bad luck to the purser,
He cheat us with ease of our oatmeal & pease,
Such rogues there can't be worser.

View Raw XML