The lion's cub with other verse |
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A SAILOR SONG. |
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The lion's cub | ||
A SAILOR SONG.
Bourbon and Braganza,They say, are royal strains;
The blood of fifty sailors
Is running in my veins;
With a yo-heave-ho,
And a rumbelow!
Flowing, flowing,
Coming, going,
Not a waft in vain
To my little pinnace along the
Spanish main,
From dawn till day is done
To a sailor's son.
74
Means, they all declare,
Pennon, standard-bearer,
Stalwart armor-wearer,
Descendant of stout fellows,
Whom the Winter sun still mellows,
With a yo-heave-ho,
And a rombelow
To sailor sire and son.
The lion's cub | ||