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The praise of Sailors, heere set forth, with their hard fortunes which doe befall them on the Seas, when Land-men sleepe safe in their Beds.
To a pleasant new tune.
[illustration]
AS I lay musing in my bed,
full warme and well at ease,
I thought vpon the lodging hard
poore Sailors haue at Seas.
They bide it out with hunger and cold,
and many a bitter blast,
And many a time constrain'd they are
for to cut downe their Past,
Their victuals and their Ordinance,
and ought else that they haue,
They throw it ouer-boord with spéed,
and seeke their liues to saue.
When as the raging Seas doe fome,
and loftie winds doe blow,
The Saylors they goe to the top,
when Land-men stay below.
Our Masters Mate takes Helme in hand,
his Course he stéeres full well,
When as the loftie winds doe blow,
and raging Seas doe swell.
Our Master to his Compasse goes,
so well he plies his charge:
He sends a Youth to the Top amaine,
for to ••••••••ing the Yeards.
The Boatson hée's vnder the Deck,
a man of courage bold;
To th'top toth'top, my liuely Lads,
hold fast my hearts of gold.
The Pilot he stands on the Claine,
with Line and Lead to sound,
To see how farre and neere they are
from any dangerous ground.
It is a testimoniall good,
we are not farre from land,
There sits a Mermaid on the Rocke,
with Combe and Glasse in hand.
Our Captaine he is on the Poope,
a man of might and power,
And lookes when raging Seas doe gape
our bodies to deuoure.
Our royall Ship is runne to racke,
that was so stout and trim,
And some are put vnto their ••ifts,
either to sinke or swim.