The Savior's Complaint; or, The True Character of the Purser of a Ship

Of all the curst plagues that e'er Fate did decree
To vex, plague, and punish poor sailors at sea,
There's none to compare with the purser, that evil
Who's worse than a jailer, a bum, or a devil,
Sure when he was framed Dame Nature lay dying;
Hell then took a purge, hell then took a purge,
and Pluto sh——t him flying.

As his name foully stinks, so his butter rank doth smell,
Both hateful to sailors, scarce good enough for hell :
The nation allows men what's fitting to eat,
But he, curse attend him, gives to us musty meat ;
With bisket that's mouldy, hard stinking Suffolk cheese,
And pork cut in pounds, and pork cut in pounds,
for to eat with our pease.

Because it is cut off the best fatted hogs
He thinks it too good for eternal lowsie dogs.
Then our urine to purge, that the men may piss clear,
Instead of what's better, his petty-warrant beer
Is by him allowed, which makes us complain ;
Which he ne'er regards, which he ne'er regards,
so he gets but the gain.

His oatmeal, or grout, known by the name burgooe,
Is fitting for nothing but make a sailor spew:
His bruis, no better than common kitchen-grease,
The sailors are forced to eat with their pease :
Such beef-fat, so nasty, we constantly use,
That's but fit for the mast, that's but fit for the mast, or the greasing of shoes.

When a sailor's oblig'd to make use of his store
He then must expect to be miserable poor :
For consider what price for their goods we do pay;
He has treble worth of each man, I dare say.
Such dealings as these are not just, I am sure;
Yet such hardships as these, yet such hardships as these we do daily endure.

Now, since he's so friendly, I'd give, as 'tis due,
By way of requital, a kind wish, or two :
And first, may his brandy run' all o'er the deck,
And he end his days in a rope with aking neck ;
Or may he still eat, and be never satisfy'd,
Still craving of more, still craving of more,
but be never cloy'd.

And may he have nothing to drink all the year,
When droughth shall attend him, but petty-warrant beer :
May fate ne'er allow him a candle to his cabbin,
And be in the dark by Old Nick taken napping,
And by him or his agents be bore swiftly away,
To plague, vex, and punish, to plague, vex, and punish, for ever and aye.

May Charon be careful and ferry him o're
To Pluto's grand court on the Stygian shore :
May ten thousand furies still on him attend,
To plague and torment him unto the world's end :
While each jolly sailor, to make themselves merry,
Shall take a full glass, shall take a full glass,
to his passage o'er the ferry.