by Charles Dibdin One night came on a hurricane The sea was mountains rolling, When Barney Buntling turned his quid And said to Billy Bowling 'A strong nor'wester's blowing, Bill Hark! Don't ye hear it roar, now? Lord help 'em, how I pities all Unhappy folks on shore now 'Foolhardy chaps who live in towns What dangers they are all in! And now lie quaking in their beds, For fear the roof should fall in! Poor creatures! How they envies us, And wishes, I've a notion, For our good luck, in such a storm, To be upon the ocean. And as for them who're out all day On business for their houses, And late at night are coming home To cheer their babes and spouses While you and I, Bill, on the deck Are comfortably lying My eyes! What tiles and chimney-pots About their heads are flying. And very often have we heard How men are killed and undone; By overturns of carriages, By thieves and fires of London. We know what risks all landmen run, From noblemen to tailors, Then, Bill, let us thank Providence, That you and I are sailors."
The end