The last English chanty bit in L.A. Smith comes later on in the volume:

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The following extract is from "A Land-Lubber's Log," in the Newcastle Weekly Chronicle:—

BURYING THE DEAD HORSE.

Auctioneer.—"A poor old man came riding by.
   Chorus.—And they say so, and they hope so.
Auctioneer.—A poor old man came riding by.
   Chorus.—A poor old man,
               A poor old man came riding by.
Auctioneer.—They say, old man, your horse will die.
If he dies I will tan his hide,
And if he lives I will ride him again;
I'll have his hide to make my shoes.
We'll drag him along to his burial-place,
O pull, my boys, and make a noise.
You, poor old horse, what brought you here,
After carrying turf for many a year
From Bantry Bay to Ballyack,
When you fell down and broke your back?
You died from blows and sore abuse,
And were salted down for the sailor's use.
The sailors they the meat despise,
They turned you over and (ahem'd) your eyes,
They ate the meat and picked the bones,
And gave the rest to Davy Jones;
And if you don't believe it's true,
Go look in the harness cask, and find his shoes."

"The music to this extraordinary song," says the writer, "was strange and crude, but marked by a weird, mournful melody, recalling what one has read of the caoine that was formerly sung by the Irish over their dead. . . . Each line was sung twice over by the auctioneer, and the crew followed in chorus with the alternate refrain." The ceremony of " Burying the Dead Horse" is now almost an obsolete one, and is rarely witnessed save on Australian bound passenger-ships. As to its origin I cannot find any authentic information, the custom is certainly confined to the British mercantile service. "The Dead Horse" is typical of one month's pay advanced on shore, and which, after twenty-eight days, has been worked out. The horse's body is made out of a barrel, and his extremities of hay or straw, covered with canvas, the mane and tail of hemp, or still better, of manilla; the eyes consist of two ginger-beer bottles, which are sometimes filled with phosphorus. When the horse is completed, he is lashed to a box, which is covered by a rug and then drawn along, in Egyptian fashion, on a grating.

A very humorous description of this ceremony, and another set of lines and music known as "The Dead Horse," I had sent me, in a copy of The Parramatta Sun (a serio-comic magazine, issued fortnightly, during the voyage of the ship Parramatta from London to Sydney, September 9th, 1879, to December 8th, 1879).

BURYING THE DEAD HORSE.

"On Thursday, October 2nd, lat. 7-32° N., long. 25-20° W., Mr. Richard Tangye, the well-known judge and buyer of blood stock, attended the Parramatta sale, and purchased the animal which was too celebrated to need mention by name. At about eight o'clock a vast multitude of those interested in the turf were assembled on the poop, anxiously waiting to catch a glimpse of the noble animal as he emerged from his stable in the fore part of the ship. His jockey having mounted him, proceeded to the main-deck amidst a crowd of the ship's crew, singing as they did a song which would have deterred anybody with less spirit than Mr. Tangye from bidding. It appeared that the horse was a victim to fate, and that his dirge was being sung :—

"Oh! now poor horse your time is come,
       And we say so, for we know so.
Oh! many a race I know you've won:
         Poor old man.
2. I have come a long, long way,
       And, &c.
To be sold upon this day.
       Oh, poor old man.
3. I have made Fordham's heart jump with joy,
And, &c.
For many a long time he tried a Derby to win,
4. But I was the moke to carry him in.
So I hope I shall fetch plenty of tin.
5. Oh! gentlemen, walk up and speculate;
   If I go cheap, my heart will break.
6. So now, Mr. Auctioneer, you can begin.
And, &c.

"Put up, therefore, he was before the poop, the auctioneer introducing him to the public by narrating his past and prosperous career, and quickly inducing them to make spirited bids. The bidding commenced at five shillings, and speedily ran up to six pounds ten shillings, each person being answerable for the amount of his or her bid. The horse and jockey being knocked down, the crew sang the following requiem, the melody being the same as that for the dirge :—

"Now, old horse, your time is come,
       And we say so, for we know so.
Altho' many a race you have won.
         Oh, poor old man.
2. You're going now to say good-bye,
       And, &c.
   Poor old horse you're going to die.
       Oh, &c.

"The procession moving forward, the horse and jockey were attached to a rope and hauled up to the main-yardarm, and were then, amid plenty of blue fire (stay, the jockey, who happened to be alive, was spared) committed to the deep. The crew then sang:—

"Now he is dead and will die no more,
    And we say so, for we know so.
It makes his ribs feel very sore,
      Oh, poor old man.
He is gone and will go no more,
    And we say so, &c.
So good-bye, old horse!
    We say good-bye!"

[score]
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