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About Lynn Wangchen
In Yarmouth first fair Poll I saw, Well rigg'd, tight--built, for service clever; I hail'd and took her straight in tow, And vow'd to sail with her for ever: Splic'd to a girl so fair and kind, The sailor knows no jealous folly; But soon, alas! the fickle wind Forc'd me on board from lovely Polly.
Scarce had we put three days to sea, When a hard gale our vessel shatter'd; No hopes of safety then had we, For all around us rocks lay scatter'd. The lightning's flash, the thunder's roll, I heeded not, still brisk and jolly: Soon in a calm we slung the bowl; Each gave his girl--I toasted Polly.
Sav'd from the storm, a ship we 'spy'd; The word was giv'n, loud cannons rattle: 'Adieu, my Poll,' I sighing cried, 'For soon thy Ben may fall in battle.' Tho' both my limbs were shiver'd sore, I thought repining nought but folly, And boldly brav'd the battle's roar, Cheer'd with the hope of meeting Polly.
They struck, and soon to land we bore, When sailors feel a glowing pleasure; I flew to meet my girl on shore, And share with her my hard--earn'd treasure: But in a calm the wind may veer, So mirth may turn to melancholy; A tar soon whisper'd, with a tear, That Death had robb'd me of my Polly.
Full oft I've fought my country's cause, And weather'd many a stormy ocean; Thro' life have borne my share of woes-- For happiness is all a notion; Yet, like a sailor bold and brave, I'll never pine in melancholy, But do my duty, till the grave Makes Ben forget the charms of Polly.