Tom Bowling
Music
often used at the last night of the Proms
Here
a sheer hulk lies poor Tom Bowling,
The
darling of our crew;
No
more he'll hear the tempest howling,
For
death has broach'd him to:
His
form was of the manliest beauty,
His
heart was kind and soft.
Faithful,
below, he did his duty,
And
now he's gone aloft,
And
now he's gone aloft.
Tom
never from his word departed,
His
virtues were so rare,
His
friends were many, and true-hearted,
His
Poll was kind and fair:
And
then he'd sing so blithe and jolly -
Ah!
many's the Time and oft -
But
mirth is turn'd to melancholy,
For
Tom is gone aloft,
For
Tom is gone aloft.
Yet
shall poor Tom find pleasant weather,
When
He, who all commands,
Shall
give, to call life's crew together,
The
word to pipe all hands:
Thus
death, who Kings and tars dispatches,
In
vain Tom's life has doff'd,
For
though his body's under hatches,
His
soul has gone aloft,
His
soul has gone aloft.
The
Lass That Loves A Sailor
1811
Dibdin’s
last important song
1.
The moon on the ocean was
dimmed by a ripple
Affording a chequered delight;
The gay jolly tars passed a word for the tipple,
And the toast — for 'twas Saturday night:
Some sweetheart or wife he loved as his life
Each drank, and wished he could hail her:
But the standing toast
that pleased the most
Was "The wind that blows,
The Ship that goes,
And the lass that loves a sailor!"
2.
Some drank "The
Queen," and some her brave ships,
And some "The Constitution";
Some "May our foes, and all such rips,
Yield to English resolution!"
That fate might bless some Poll or Bess,
And that they soon might hail her:
But the standing toast
that pleased the most
Was "The wind that blows,
The Ship that goes,
And the lass that loves a sailor!"
3.
Some drank "The
Prince," and some "Our Land,"
This glorious land of freedom!
Some that our tars may never stand
For heroes brave to lead them!
That she who's in distress may find,
Such friends as ne'er will fail her.
But the standing toast
that pleased the most
Was "The wind that blows,
The Ship that goes,
And the lass that loves a sailor!"
Written, acted
and sung by Charles Dibdin
“Dear
heart, what a terrible life I am led!
A dog has a better that’s sheltered and fed.
Night and day ’tis the same;
My pain is deir game;
Me wish to de Lord me was dead!
Whate’er’s to be done
Poor black must run.
Mungo here, Mungo dere,
Mungo everywhere;
Above and below,
Sirrah, come, sirrah, go;
Do so, and do so.
Oh! oh!
Me wish to de Lord me was dead!” |
 |
Negro
Slave.
A
Pathetic Ballad
Charles Mungo
Dibdin(1796)
Ye children of
Pleasure! come hither and see,
A sight that shall check your irreverent glee;
Ye children of Woe!
hear a tale which awhile
A sense of your own various griefs shall beguile:
Thy tear, at the tale,
divine Sympathy! shed;
Rejoice, sweet
Compassion! at viewing this grave;
Here Wretchedness
hides, unmolested, its head
For under this turf lies a poor Negro Slave!
Depriv’d of whatever
endears us to life,
His country, his
freedom, his children, and wife;
Grown mad with reflection, his spirit he freed
With pity, ye rigid, contemplate the deed!
His corpse, unregarded,
disgrac’d the highway,
Till, blushing,
Humanity’s credit to save,
With tenderness Charity
hasten’d to pay
Mortality’s due to the poor Negro Slave!
Ye kind passers by, who
this spot turn to view,
The tribute bequeath to
his memory due
May Peace watch his
pillow, whose breast can bestow
A generous tear o’er
the annals of woe!
The sigh that you
heave, and the tear that you shed,
Remembrance on Heaven’s blest records shall ’grave;
But vengeance shall heavily fall on each head,
That spurn’d and
oppress’d him, a poor Negro Slave! |