Jacktar

O! the next that steps up is a jolly Jack tar, / He sailed with Lord [Nelson]^([sic]), during last war: / He’s right on the sea, Old England to view: / He’s come a pace-egging with so jolly a crew.

Wreaths of blue smoke curled gracefully from above the pipes of our loungers, who, gradually growing tired of chaffing each other, or of vainly wooing the drowsy god, fell into the ever-pleasant frontier habit of spinning yarns, an art in which the borderer rivals any gallant Jack Tar who ever trod a forecastle.

I am a jolly Jack Tar, / My star, / And you are the fairest, / The richest and rarest / Of innocent lasses you are, / By far