Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Come, Bustle, Bustle

Come, Bustle, Bustle.

Come, bustle, bustle, drink about,
And let us merry be;
Our can is full, we'll see it out,
And then all hands to sea.
And a sailing we will go, will go;
And a sailing we will go.

Fine miss at dancing school is taught
The minuet to tread;
But we go better when we've brought
The fore-tack to cathead.
And a sailing, &c.

The jockey's called to horse, to horse,
And swiftly rides the race;
But swifter far we shape our course
When we are giving chase.
And a sailing, &c.

When horns and shouts the forest rend,
The pack the huntsmen cheer,
As loud we holloa when we send
A broadside to Mounseer.
And a sailing, &c.

With gold and silvei- streamers fine,
The ladies' rigging show;
But English ships more grandly shine,
When prizes home we tow.
And a sailing, &c.

What's got at sea we spend on shore
With sweethearts and with wives,
And then, my boys, hoist sail for more;
Thus sailors pass their lives.
And a sailing they do go, do go;
And a sailing they do go.
1782.