Mirth and Metre consisting of Poems, Serious, Humorous, and Satirical; Songs, Sonnets, Ballads & Bagatelles. Written by C. Dibdin, Jun |
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OBSTINATE DOG. |
 | Mirth and Metre |  |
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OBSTINATE DOG.
Jack Gunnel, an odd fish as ever hove anchor,
Or clew'd up a top-sail, lov'd Poll of Spithead;
But Poll was a Tartar, a terrible canker;
For tho' a tight vessel, false colours she spread;
Jack oftens, he told me, he lov'd her more better
Than deep sounding, smooth sailing, good biscuit, or grog;
But I thought he was wrong, so his senses to fetter,
And reason'd, d'ye mind, with the obstinate dog;
For its always my way when a shipmate I sees
Deceiv'd in his reck'ning, or hanging astarn,
To take him in tow, if I drives with the breeze,
Or point out those shallows he cannot dissarn.
Or clew'd up a top-sail, lov'd Poll of Spithead;
But Poll was a Tartar, a terrible canker;
For tho' a tight vessel, false colours she spread;
Jack oftens, he told me, he lov'd her more better
Than deep sounding, smooth sailing, good biscuit, or grog;
But I thought he was wrong, so his senses to fetter,
And reason'd, d'ye mind, with the obstinate dog;
For its always my way when a shipmate I sees
Deceiv'd in his reck'ning, or hanging astarn,
To take him in tow, if I drives with the breeze,
Or point out those shallows he cannot dissarn.
Her false arms she lash'd round his neck when they parted,
That time when the Dreadnought she sail'd from the Nore,
A leak in her eye for to queer him she started,
And shamm'd for to faint, when the boat put off shore.
How oft of her constancy Jack would be talking!
And toasted her still when we push'd 'round the grog;
But I told him her constancy oft would want calking,
And a scowl lour'd the eye of the obstinate dog;
But its always my way, &c.
That time when the Dreadnought she sail'd from the Nore,
A leak in her eye for to queer him she started,
And shamm'd for to faint, when the boat put off shore.
How oft of her constancy Jack would be talking!
And toasted her still when we push'd 'round the grog;
But I told him her constancy oft would want calking,
And a scowl lour'd the eye of the obstinate dog;
But its always my way, &c.
Each prize that we took gave Jack's spirits fresh canvass,
And the compass of Hope seem'd to point to port Joy;
But I knew in my mind how mistaken the man was,
And tried still his senses to pipe, hands-a-hoy!
For which, in the presence of every mess brother,
He struck me one night while we push'd round the grog—
So I trounc'd him, d'ye see, and how could I do other?
And I left to himself then the obstinate dog.
Yet its always, &c.
And the compass of Hope seem'd to point to port Joy;
But I knew in my mind how mistaken the man was,
And tried still his senses to pipe, hands-a-hoy!
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He struck me one night while we push'd round the grog—
So I trounc'd him, d'ye see, and how could I do other?
And I left to himself then the obstinate dog.
Yet its always, &c.
When to port we return'd, Jack soon heard that his Polly
Didn't single long after his sailing remain;
The latitude then he first found of his folly,
And wanted the timbers to start of his brain;
But I captur'd his pistols, and bid him weigh anchor,
And leave Port Despair for the Ocean of Grog;
He took my advice, over-board threw his rancour,
And never more turn'd out an obstinate dog.
And its always, &c.
Didn't single long after his sailing remain;
The latitude then he first found of his folly,
And wanted the timbers to start of his brain;
But I captur'd his pistols, and bid him weigh anchor,
And leave Port Despair for the Ocean of Grog;
He took my advice, over-board threw his rancour,
And never more turn'd out an obstinate dog.
And its always, &c.
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