The Lover's Magazine; or Cupid's Decoy, printed at Aldermary Churchyard
c1760

The Brisk Fellow

I am a jolly brisk fellow,
delight in all manner of sport,
And when I'm in liquor I'm mellow,
The girls I do naturly court;
But love has surrounded my passion,
And put such thoughts in my head,
Is this not a very sad story,
that love should strike a man dead.

I have been in stormy weather,
I have been in heat and cold,
I've been with fellows that ventur'd,
Their lives boys for money and gold;
But now the wars they are over,
And I am safe moor'd on the shore,
The de'il may have me for ever,
If e'er I weigh anchor any more.

Here's to the girl that will love me,
And lie with me every night,
That will frisk it away with a fiddle,
A country dance or hornpipe.
Let the weakest not go with the strongest,
But let them be equally yok'd,
For the strongest may last out the longest,
Here's a jacket that values no strokes.

Here's to my friends and acquaintance;
When death upon me does come,
Let them behave in their station,
And send me a cask of good rum;
Let it be good royal stingo,
With full three barrels of beer;
To make my friends the more welcome,
To meet me at Tarry down fair.

I'll have none but sailors to carry me,
Let them be all damnable drunk,
And as they go along for to bury me,
May they fall down with my trunk;
Let there be no sighing and sobbing,
But one single favour I crave,
take me up in my tarpaulin Jacket,
And fiddle and dance to my grave.

Here's to the youth on the throne,
And send him long for to reign,
And likewise to Admiral Hawke,
And every true heart on the main.
Come tip us the other can boys,
Of liquor we have great store;
The De'il may have me for ever,
If e'er I weigh anchor any more.

The 'youth on the throne' should also help to date it. I'll check it out.