Rewards and Fairies

‘Poor Honest Men’

     Your jar of Virginny
     Will cost you a guinea,
     Which you reckon too much by five shilling or ten;
     But light your churchwarden
     And judge it accordin’
     When I’ve told you the troubles of poor honest men.

     From the Capes of the Delaware,
     As you are well aware,
     We sail with tobacco for England—but then
     Our own British cruisers,
     They watch us come through, sirs,
     And they press half a score of us poor honest men.

     Or if by quick sailing
     (Thick weather prevailing)
     We leave them behind (as we do now and then)
     We are sure of a gun from
     Each frigate we run from,
     Which is often destruction to poor honest men!

     Broadsides the Atlantic
     We tumble short-handed,
     With shot-holes to plug and new canvas to bend,
     And off the Azores,
     Dutch, Dons and Monsieurs
     Are waiting to terrify poor honest men!

     Napoleon’s embargo
     Is laid on all cargo
     Which comfort or aid to King George may intend;
     And since roll, twist and leaf,
     Of all comforts is chief,
     They try for to steal it from poor honest men!

     With no heart for fight,
     We take refuge in flight,
     But fire as we run, our retreat to defend,
     Until our stern-chasers
     Cut up her fore-braces,
     And she flies off the wind from us poor honest men!

     Twix’ the Forties and Fifties,
     South-eastward the drift is,
     And so, when we think we are making Land’s End,
     Alas, it is Ushant
     With half the King’s Navy,
     Blockading French ports against poor honest men!

     But they may not quit station
     (Which is our salvation),
     So swiftly we stand to the Nor’ard again;
     And finding the tail of
     A homeward-bound convoy,
     We slip past the Scillies like poor honest men.

     ‘Twix’ the Lizard and Dover,
     We hand our stuff over,
     Though I may not inform how we do it, nor when;
     But a light on each quarter
     Low down on the water
     Is well understanded by poor honest men.
     Even then we have dangers
     From meddlesome strangers,
     Who spy on our business and are not content
     To take a smooth answer,
     Except with a handspike...
     And they say they are murdered by poor honest men!

     To be drowned or be shot
     Is our natural lot,
     Why should we, moreover, be hanged in the end—
     After all our great pains
     For to dangle in chains,
     As though we were smugglers, not poor honest men?