Song Xxxv. Honest Jack Poem by Robert Anderson

D'ye see, I'm a sailor that ne'er knew base fear;
It's true I'm a cripple--what then:
Tho' tight rigg'd fore and aft, and safe moor'd by my dear,
Were I call'd on, I'd try them again.

Honest Jack is still happy and true to the end,
Can drink, dance, work, laugh, joke, and sing:
I tipples my grog to my girl or my friend,
And Jack's just as great as a king.

Now when poor Tom Hatchway was toss'd off the yard,
Kit Fearful, the lubber, would cry:
Avast there!' says I, `tho' with Tom it's gone hard,
`Let's be thankful 'twas not you or I.'

Honest Jack is still happy, &c.

Yer tempests and battles Jack minds not, d'ye see,
Let winds whistle or loud cannons roar;
The same Providence guards the poor sailor at sea,
That keeps the land--lubber ashore.

Honest Jack is still happy, &c.

When my fine larboard arm was shot off in the bay
D'ye think I'd palaver and sigh:
Says I to Sam Swig, when he hawl'd me away,
`There's Greenwich as dead as my eye.'

Honest Jack is still happy, &c.

Tho' I've weather'd all storms, have oft stood at Death's door,
And twice by false friends lost my all,
Yet I ne'er bore away from a messmate when poor,
Nor e'er prov'd a shark to our Poll.

Honest Jack is still happy and true to the end,
Can drink, dance, work, laugh, joke, or sing:
I tipples my grog to my girl or my friend,
And Jack's just as great as a king.