Lieutenant Fire was fond of smoke, And cash he ow'd a deal; Tho' some said he'd a heart of OAK, For others it could feel: With wit he was,--not money stor'd,-- His landlord thought it meet, As he'd liv'd free so long on board, Why he should join the FLEET.
The station he lik'd not at all, And wish'd the duty o'er; He saw some fights, and many ball, But ne'er saw such before. To banish care, he sought a rod, And smok'd like any mid, But unlike some,--altho' in quod,-- Disdain'd to take a QUID.
And though a man, both short and stout, All knew him in a crowd; For oh, he never mov'd, without His head was in a CLOUD: In pris'n he met a friend he'd known Full many years ago, In 'four in hand' his cash had flown, And now he'd come to WOE.
Poor Brown, alas! he had been GREEN, And so his hopes had marr'd; But thought it strange in turn, I ween, He should be driven HARD. Now he took snuff, in _quantum suff._, He thought it calm'd his woes,-- While one friend blew the light cigar, The other blew his NOSE.
"As we have bask'd in fortune's calm, Now squalls come we'll not flinch," Thus spoke the tar, and gave his arm, And Brown gave him a PINCH. "Now, Fire, all snuffs are good, we know, Except when ill-prepar'd, I love a BOX and you a BLOW, But keep me from BLACKGUARD.
At _Lundyfoot_ I am no hand, Seldom its dust I take, ah! Each day or so, by turns, I go From STRASBURG to JAMAICA." "'Tis well, my boy," return'd the tar, "Such journeys you can wend, For fuel here don't go so far, Here's plenty of WALLS-END."
Of future scenes of happiness, The tar he often spoke; But they, indeed, as you may guess, But ended all in SMOKE. At length there money came one day,-- Each left the walls unkind; The tar went out--yet strange to say, His ASHES left behind!
Gently o'er my senses stealing, Indian-weed, I love thee well; Raising, soothing, passion's feeling, Who can all thy magic tell: Who can paint the soft entrancing, All thy virtues who can know? Moving visions, sweetly glancing, Giving joy and calming woe.
Tell me, do the proud ones scorn ye, Does the monarch on his throne, In the countries where are born ye, In the lands of either zone; Prince and beggar, both caress thee, And to thee their homage pay; From Ind to Lapland, myriads bless thee, All bow to thy sovereign sway.