Note to Time Jaques:

The "Old Jack Sprat, the poor sailor man, who must go to sea once more" song is included in a collection of Sea Chanties I got from the Smithsonian Institution when I was there. It may still be available from the Smithsonian. They have alternative versions of several verses. One of there's, I think, is clearly superior to one of yours. It goes

"But I'll give yer a chance and I'll TAKE yer advance and I'll send you to sea once more"

This makes more sense than the version you recorded because sailors were often paid advances when signing up with a vessel. A percentage of this advance would often go to the agent who found them a birth. This particular agent is complaining because last time "to me you chalked no score." Therefore, he will take all of the advance money from the whaler this time. Hence, Jack has "no hard weather gear, since I'd spent all me money ashore."

Here's one from the Clancy Brothers. It is typically Irish, and so I love it. OK, so it's not all sackcloth and ashes, but it's a good, light-hearted parody of this genre.

The Juice of the Barley
In the sweet county Limerick one cold Winter's night,
As the turf fires were burning I first saw the light,
And a drunken old midwife went tipsy with joy
As she danced round the floor with her slip all keboy

Singin' fall de-rall rovers sendover
It's the juice of the barley for me!

When I was a young lad of eight years or so,
With me t____(?) and p____(?) off to school I did go.
To a dirty old school house without any door,
Where the latest schoolmaster lay drunk on the floor!

Chorus.

At schoolin' I wasn't such a genius I'm thinkin',
But I soon beat the schoolmaster entirely at drinkin'.
Not a wake, nor a wedding for five miles around,
But myself in the corner blind drunk to be found

Chorus.

[Here's the repentant verse]
Next Sunday the priest lead me up from the alter,
Sayin' you'll end up your days wi' your neck in a halter,
And ye'll dance a fine jig between heaven and hell,
And his words they did fright me, the truth for to tell.

Chorus

Early next mornin' as the dawn it did break,
I went down to the vestry the pledge for to take,
But there in that room sat the priests in a bunch,
'Round the big roarin' fire drinkin' tumblers of punch!

Chorus.

A more genuine example of the genre that I also like is Nancy Whiskey. I won't take time to record it; it is probably in the database.