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  The Topsails Shiver.

Printed and sold by Jennings, Water-lane,
                   Fleet-street, London.

THE topſails ſhiver in the wind,
The ſhip ſhe caſts to ſea ;
But yet my ſoul, my heart, my mind
Are, Mary, moor d with thee ;
For though thy ſailor's bound afar,
Still love ſhall be his leading ſtar.

Should landſmen flatter when we've
fail'd,
O doubt their artful tales,
No gallant ſailor ever ſail'd,
If love breath'd conſtant gales ;
Thou art the compaſs of my ſoul,
Which ſteers my heart from pole to
pole.

Syrens in every port we find,
More ſell than rocks or waves,
But ſuch as grace the Britiſh fleet
Are lovers, and not ſlaves ;
No ſoes can ever us ſubdue,
Although we leave our hearts with
you.

Theſe are our cares, but if you're
kind,
We'll ſcorn the daſhing main,
The rocks, the billows, and the wind,
Till we return again ;
Now England's glory reſts with you,
Our ſails are full, ſweet girl, adieu.