Classic Poem

I'm a young lad, Jack Rollins by name,
The briny ocean I rove;
My pursuit is with courage, for glory and fame,
King George and my country I love.

My trousers milk white, my shoes jetty black,
And buckles so clean and so smart,
A natty blue jacket set tight on my back,
Was always the pride of my heart.

When called to, I cheerfully go,
And see every order obeyed;
Though the billows run mountains, or hurricanes blow,
Bold Jack's not daunted or afraid.

And if that by chance we meet with our foes
And to fight them our order does run,
With cutlass and pistol to my station I'll go,
Stick firm to my duty and guns.

A good ten knots an hour I like for a grace
In pursuing an enemy ship,
While they send it away, we're giving them chase,
And boring our grog and our flip.

Thus o'er the rough billows, where driven along
On many strange coasts as I go,
The girls of each port, they give me a smile,
Their meanings I know very well.

Then find them a gig when lovers I call,
And left at my ease on return,
I laugh and joke, and talk with them,
But Sally's my only concern.

At——this little rogue dwells,
Well known by her nice winning air,
That all other girls of the place she excels,
She is pretty Sally the fair.

We have both made a vow, should we get the stuff,
To marry, and so become one,
As others have done, for 'tis common enough,
And we'll set up a house of our own.

Then she'll be called Madam, and I'll be called Sir,
We'll stick up the sign of the Tar;
Amongst girls and their sailors, we'll bustle and stir,
While Sally shall attend to the bar.