558 LAMENT OF THE "HALF-PAY CLUB. 



All Kick her out ! 



Landl. Ise tell ye, Captain Mountgarrett, ye owe me a matter of 

 fifteen shillings, so I'll just take the leeberty o* borrowing this till ye 

 pay me. {She seizes a coat hanging on a chair, and makes off, followed 

 by Mounlgarrett. A scuffle ensues. The old woman tumbles down stairs, 

 screaming murder ; and Mountgarrett re-enters with his coat torn in 

 half.} 



Mount. Ruined and undone my only coat \ 



Mag. Fatal charge Lancers dreadfully punished ! 



Stan. Baggage captured by the Scotch rifle brigade. 



Chip. Capsize of the Scotch smack Beelzebub cargo saved, but 

 much damaged. But don't look blank, old friend ; rig yourself in 

 my great coat, and come along to the club. I can lend you a coat of 

 mine till you can get another fit, and muster you up a few shot to 

 get you clear of this privateersman. You shall dine and be merry 

 to-day so all hands about ship Cook to the fore-sheet ! 



All. Bravo ! (Exeunt omnes, singing in a corresponding happy tone.} 



LAMENT OF THE HALF-PAY CLUB 



REFT of rank, and joy cut short all 



Poor, lost Subs ! 

 Each a luckless undone mortal 



Poor, lost Subs ! 



Ne'er, oh, ne'er the sweets of messing 



More to taste, Sirs ! How distressing. 



Wretched, needy, dank and seedy 



Poor, lost Subs ! 



Joyous once, we plough'd life's ocean 



Ah, happy Subs ! 

 Bless'd with hope, whole pay, promotion 



Ah, happy Subs ! 



But fell Peace, our prospects blasting, 

 Brought us duns, distress and fasting ; 

 Prisons yawning, watches pawning 

 Poor, lost Subs ! . 



Depth of woe ! sans grub or rhino - 

 Poor, lost Subs ! 



Where will this all end ? Ah ! I know- 

 Poor, lost Subs ! 



Despairing, we'll cast off life's onus 



Suicide St. Martin's bone-house ; 



Pale, distended, care all ended 

 Poor, lost Subs I 



