| First Line |
Page |
Verses |
| Dear Tom this brown jug which foams with mild ale |
3 |
3 |
| Here a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling |
4 |
3 |
| Trust not man for he'll deceive you |
4-5 |
3 |
| Trust not woman, she'll beguile you |
5 |
3 |
| Such a Tom-boy before I had enter'd my teens |
5-7 |
4 |
| Roving about, good fellows to meet |
7-8 |
6 |
| Distress me with those tears no more |
8 |
3 |
| On that lone bank where Lubin died |
9 |
4 |
| Tho' prudence may press me |
9-10 |
2 |
| Sails unfurl'd, the ship unmoor'd, The |
10 |
4 |
| Tho' I am now a very little lad |
11 |
3 |
| O you whose lives on land are pass'd |
12 |
3 |
| Alas! they've torn my love away |
12-13 |
3 |
| Eve her silver vestment wore, The |
13-14 |
5 |
| Sons of Bacchus lets be gay |
14 |
2 |
| Passing bell was heard to toll, The |
15-16 |
5 |
| Man takes woman as his bane |
16-17 |
3 |
| At sixteen years old you could get little good of me |
17-18 |
4 |
| Tho' women, 'tis true, are but tender |
18 |
3 |
| I'm jolly Dick the lamplighter |
19 |
4 |
| You may say what you will, but Belinda's too tall |
20-21 |
7 |
| From sweet bewitching tricks of love |
21-22 |
4 |
| When first I sought fair Celia's love |
22 |
4 |
| Topsails shiver in the wind, The |
22-23 |
3 |
| Why don't you know me by my scars |
23-24 |
4 |
| Dear madam, when ladies are willing |
24 |
2 |
| I'm in love with twenty |
24-25 |
7 |
| Buy my matches, ye maids, I have matches for all |
25-26 |
5 |
| Sir Solomon Simons when he did wed |
26-28 |
7 |
| Dapper-rid-tat-too is my natty name |
28-30 |
4 |
| Young Mog arriv'd at woman's growth |
30-31 |
3 |
| When I was at home I was merry and frisky |
31-32 |
3 |
| For our country when with fav'ring gale |
32-33 |
3 |
| Little does the towns-wife know |
33 |
3 |
| In golden days, on rural plains |
34 |
5 |
| Tho' neither in silks nor in sattins I'm seen [sic] |
34-35 |
3 |
| On Richmond Hill there lives a lass |
35-36 |
3 |
| Come, pretty Poll, from tears refrain |
36-37 |
3 |
| Can you to the battle march away |
37-38 |
4 |
| Bold Jack, the sailor, here he comes |
38-39 |
5 |
| Now Henry has left me to plough the salt sea |
40 |
3 |
| When spring returning decks the grove |
41 |
3 |
| For Balt'more, when, with fav'ring gale |
42 |
3 |
| Sweet rosy morning, The |
42-43 |
3 |
| How poor is the man, tho' he wealth would possess |
43 |
2 |
| Come, my Sylvia! come and bless! |
44 |
4 |
| I've found my fair, a true love knot |
44-45 |
3 |
| You, whose lives on land are pass'd |
45 |
3 |
| Oh! think on my fate! once I freedom enjoy'd |
46 |
3 |
| Western sky was purpl'd o'er. The |
47 |
3 |
| Go tuneful bird, that glads the skies |
47-48 |
4 |
| My friends all declare that my time is mispent |
48 |
4 |