Should he return inpoverty, from o’er the ocean far,
To my tender bosom, I’ll fondly press my jollytar.
My sailor is as smiling as the pleasant month ofMay,
And oft we have wandered through Ratcliffe Highway,
Where many a pretty blooming girl we happy didbehold,
Reclining on the bosom of her jolly sailor bold.

莫寻欢

