"Longer legs, to be sure," replied Jemmy. "Never mind that, Moggy. Here goes, a song in two parts. It's a pity, Mistress Nancy, that you couldn't take one."
"When will you give up this life of wild roving? When shall we be quiet and happy on shore? When will you to church lead your Susan, so loving, And sail on the treacherous billows no more?"
"My ship is my wife, Sue, no other I covet, Till I draw the firm splice that's betwixt her and me; I'll roam on the ocean, for much do I love it-- To wed with another were rank bigamy."
"O William, what nonsense you talk, you are raving; Pray how can a ship and a man become one? You say so because you no longer are craving, As once you were truly--and I am undone."
"You wrong me, my dearest, as sure as I stand here, As sure as I'll sail again on the wide sea; Some day I will settle, and marry with you, dear, But now 'twould be nothing but rank bigamy."
"Then tell me the time, dear William, whenever Your Sue may expect this divorce to be made; When you'll surely be mine, when no object shall sever, But locked in your arms I'm no longer afraid."
"The time it will be when my pockets are lined, I'll then draw the splice 'tween my vessel and me, And lead you to church, if you're still so inclined-- But before, my dear Sue, 'twere rank bigamy."
"Thank you, Mr Salisbury. I like the moral of that song; a sailor never should marry till he can settle on shore."
"What's the meaning of big-a-me?" said Moggy.
"Marrying two husbands or two wives, Mrs Salisbury. Perhaps you might get off on the plea that you had only one and a half," continued Nancy, laughing.
"Well, perhaps she might," replied Jemmy, "if he were a judge of understanding."
"I should think, Mistress Nancy, you might as well leave my husband's legs alone," observed Moggy, affronted.
"Lord bless you, Moggy, if he's not angry, you surely should not be; I give a joke, and I can take one. You surely are not jealous?"
"Indeed I am though, and always shall be of anyone who plays with my Jemmy."
"Yes, indeed! then you must be downright jealous of his fiddle, Moggy," replied Nancy; "but never mind, you sha'n't be jealous now about nothing. I'll sing you a song, and then you'll forget all this." Nancy Corbett then sang as follows: