I be one of they sailors who thinks 'tis no lie

I be one of they sailors who thinks 'tis no lie
That for every wherefore of life there's a why,
That be fortune's strange weather, a calm or a squall,
Our births good or bad are chalked out for us all;
That the stays and the braces of life will be found
To be some of 'em rotten and some of 'em sound,
That the good we should cherish, the bad never seek,
For death will too soon bring each anchor a-peak.

When astride on the yard, the top-lifts they let go,
And I com'd, like a shot, plump among 'em below,
Why I cotch'd at a halliard, and jump'd upon deck,
And so broke my fall, to save breaking my neck:
Just like your philosophers, for all their jaw,
Who, less than a rope, gladly catch at a straw;
Thus the good we should cherish, the bad never seek,
For death will too soon bring each anchor a-peak.

Why now that there cruise that we made off the banks,
Where I pepper'd the foe, and got shot for my thanks,
What then she soon struck, and though crippled on shore,
And laid up to refit, I had shiners galore:
At length live and looking, I tried the false main,
And to get more prize money, got shot at again:
Thus the good we should cherish, the bad never seek,
For death will too soon bring each anchor a-peak.

Then just as it comes, take the bad with the good,
One man's spoon's made of silver, another's of wood,
What's poison for one man's another man's balm,
Some are safe in a storm, and some lost in a calm,
Some are rolling in riches, some not worth a souse,
To-day we eat beef, and to-morrow lobs-scouse:
Thus the good we should cherish, the bad never seek,
For death will too soon bring each anchor apeak.