“Swift o'er the deck the busy boatswain goes,
And his shrill call at ev'ry hatchway blows :
"All hands unmoor!" aloud at each he cries,
"All hands unmoor!" each ready mate replies.
Rous'd by the sound, on deck the seamen swarm,
For music can the rudest bosom charm!
And, near the capstan, lo! a motley band
Of naval minstrels take their noisy stand!
The crew whose hands the plane and chissel guide,
Fix the huge levers in the capstan's side.
Deep in the hold, secluded far from day,
Some seamen coil the pond'rous rope away.
Hark! hark! the rugged melody I hear!
The piercing fife assails my shrinking ear;
The creaking fiddle, and the bagpipe's drone,
Which pours its sorrows in a mono-tone!
The drum crowns all; and to its leaden beat,
The crew keep time with deck-destroying feet!”

“Around the embers of the galley-fire,
For song and glee the cheerful tars retire.
There, while the cordial grog goes gaily round,
And recent trouble in the bowl is drown'd,
Again they fight their former battles o'er,
Or drink to those, belov'd, they left on shore.
Alternately the laugh and jest prevail,
And now the song is heard, and now the tale.
Hark! with a voice that stuns the deafen'd ear,
Whose rugged notes 'twere agony to hear,
Stentorophontus (best such name may suit
The man whose voice out-yells the fiercest brute)
With mouth extended, roars the rough-spun lay
That paints the perils of some fierce affray.
Rough bellowing quavers hang on ev'ry note,
As if a top-chain rattled in his throat;
Whilst in the chorus all the seamen join,
And pay the songster in his proper coin.
Anon, a tar, whose destiny severe,
For music gave him neither voice nor ear;
To furnish out his quota of delight, T
Begins some wond'rous story to recite,
Of goblins, sprites, and all the horrid crew
That ever fear conceiv'd, or terror knew;
Whilst, with attentive ear, the seamen round,
Hang on his lips in silence most profound.

So flies the time, till now th' extinguish'd fire
Warns them on other bus'ness to retire;
The warning they receive, and soon they go,
Those to their watch, and these to rest below.”

“Now swift canoes, with paddles short and strong,
To measur'd notes of music skim along,
And oft, the sable rowers, as they time
Their skilful strokes, their mellow voices chime.”
[Britain's Bulwarks or The British Seaman, Woodley, 1811, pp.57, 80-81, 129-130]