To Captain Findlay

When the squalls were flitting and fleering
And the vessel was tacking and veering;
Bravo! Captain Findlay,
Who foretold a fair wind
Of a constant mind;
For he knew which way the wind lay,
Bravo! Captain Findlay.

A Health to Captain Findlay,
Bravo! Captain Findlay!
When we made but ill speed with the Speedwell,
Neither poets nor sheep could feed well:
Now grief rotted the Liver,
Yet Malta, dear Malta, as far off as ever!

Bravo! Captain Findlay,
Foretold a fair wind,
Of a constant mind,
For he knew which way the wind lay!