HUNTING SONGS 



II 



'Tis true, though strange, this gallant ship in water 



cannot swim, 

 A sea of rosy wine, boys, is the sea she loves to 



skim ; 

 The billows of that red sea are in bumpers toss'd 



about, 

 Our spirits rising higher as the tide is running out ! 



Chorus. 



Ill 



Still swinging at her moorings, with a cable round 



her neck. 

 Though long as summer lasteth all deserted is her 



deck. 

 She scuds before the breezes of November fast and 



free, 

 O ! ne'er may she be stranded in the straits of 



Tarporley. 



Chorus. 



IV 



By adverse gale or hurricane her sails are never rent. 

 Her canvas swells with laughter, and her freight is 



merriment ; 

 The lightning on her deck, boys, is the lightning 



flash of wit. 

 Loud cheers in thunder rolling till her very timbers 



split ! 



Chorus. 



58 



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