Love and Loyalty; OR, A Letter from a Youngman, on Board of an English Privateer, to his beloved Susan in the City of London.  
To the Tune of, Tender Hearts of London City.  
Licenced according to Order.  
 
 

Susan, I this Letter send thee, let not Sighs and Tears attend thee; we are on the Coast  
of France, taking prizes from those Nizeys, my sweet jewel to advance.   

Since we London have forsaken,  
Five Rich Prizes have we taken;  
two of them Nantz Brandy Wine,  
Chests of Money, my sweet Honey,  
with rich Silks and Sartin fine.   

The first Merchant's Ship we Boarded,  
〈◊〉 great store of Wealth afforded,  
〈…〉 on most eagerly;  
〈…〉 Plunder, burst in sunder,  
〈…〉 and Cabins fly.   

Where the Treasure was enclosed,  
We waned in the least opposed;  
rich Embroidered Silks we found,  
Other Treasure, out of Measure,  
worth near seven thousand pound.   

Fortune she did still befriend us,  
And another Booty send us;  
twice the worth of that before,  
Though we gained it, and obtained it,  
yet our Guns was forced to Roar.   
 

While we did both Charge and Fire,  
They endeavour to retire;  
but the Contest was not long  
E'er we entered, bravely ventured,  
yet received but little wrong.   

Love, we'll plunder French and Tory  
For to raise great Britain's Glory,  
and to pull proud Lewis down;  
Each great spirit then will merit,  
double honour and renown.   

Dearest, when I first did leave thee,  
Parting with thy Love did grieve thee,  
But I vowed I'd Letters send,  
To improve thee, for I love thee,  
as a true entire Friend.   

Love this Promise is not broken,  
Here I have sent thee a Token,  
A rich Chain and Diamond Ring,  
And ten times more I have in store,  
which I to thee in time will bring.   

Like a Lady thou shalt flourish,  
Thy poor drooping heart I'll nourish,  
and thy former joys restore;  
Gold and Treasure, Love and Pleasure  
if I live to come on shore.   

Love, the world shall now admire,  
When they see thy rich attire,  
like a youthful Lady Gay;  
I declare it, thou shalt wear it,  
yet proud France for it shall pay.   

Dearest, though we now do sever,  
Yet I will be thine for ever;  
I prefer no one beside,  
E'er before thee, I adore thee,  
none but Death shall us divide.    

Printed for P. Brooksby, I. Deacon I. Blare, and I. Back.