UCSB LIBKAKY 
 
 OLD BOOTY! 
 
 A SERIO-COMIC 
 
 SAILOR'S TALE. 
 
 W. T. MONCRIEFF, ESQ., 
 
 Author of the Dramas, " The Devil's Walk," " Monsieur Tonson," 
 " Monsieur Mallet," " Poems," %c. Sfc. 
 
 EtlttstratttJ bg Sti spiritcti lEngra&mgs on 
 
 FROM PESIOVS BY ROBKRT CRUIKSHANE. 
 
 LONDON : 
 WILLIAM KIDD, 6, OLD BOND STREET. 
 
 MDCCCXXX.
 
 ROBERT CRUIKSHANK'S NEW WORK. 
 
 Just published, Price One Shilling. 
 
 THE HIGH-METTLED-RACER. 
 
 BY THOMAS DIBDIN. 
 
 INTERSPERSED WITH MANY INTERESTING ANECDOTES OP THE 
 HORSE, AND ILLUSTRATED 
 
 an 
 
 FROM DESIGNS BY ROBERT CRUIKSHANK. 
 
 ** By the kind permission of ANDREW DUCROW, Esq., THE 
 HIOH-METTLED-RACKR has been sketched PROM IIPE, being a 
 Portrait of the celebrated White Horse that has always performed 
 that character in the justly admired Entertainment so called.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THIS Poem owes its origin to the following curious 
 narrative, which I find in various periodical miscel- 
 lanies, but for the authenticity of which I cannot 
 vouch. The story itself is one familiar to almost every 
 sailor, though there are several versions of it : Some 
 making Old Booty a brewer, others a baker; some 
 fixing his residence at Wapping, others at Portsmouth, 
 and others altering his name altogether. The period 
 of time at which the circumstance took place, differs 
 also very materially in the relations of different nar- 
 rators. I believe it would not be difficult to find 
 amongst the veterans in Greenwich Hospital, many 
 who would swear as lustily to the truth of this legend, 
 as ever did the veracious Captain Barnaby, or even 
 Mr. Spinks. W. T. M.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 "OLD BOOTY'S GHOST! 
 
 " The following is a remarkable observation which 
 was entered in Captain Spinks's Journal, accompanied 
 by an account of Mrs. Booty's trial at the Court of 
 King's Bench, concerning her husband, a baker in 
 London. 
 
 " Tuesday, May the 12th ; this day the wind was 
 S.S.W., and a little before four in the afternoon, we 
 anchored in the Manser Road, where lay Captains 
 Bristo, Brian, and Barnaby, all of them bound to 
 Lucera to load. 
 
 " Wednesday, May the 13th, we weighed anchor, 
 and in the afternoon I went on board of Captain Bar- 
 naby, and about two o'clock we sailed, all of us, for 
 the Isle of Lucera, wind W.S.W. and bitter weather. 
 Thursday the 14th, about two o'clock, we saw the 
 Island, and all came to an anchor in twelve fathoms 
 water; the wind was W.S.W. and on the 15th day of 
 May, we had an observation of Mr. Booty in the fol- 
 lowing manner : Captains Bristo, Brian, and Barnaby, 
 went on shore, shooting of Colues on Strombolo ; when 
 we had done, we called our men together, and about 
 fourteen minutes after three in the afternoon, to our
 
 great surprise, we saw two men run by us with amaz- 
 ing swiftness. Captain Barnaby says, ' Lord bless me, 
 the foremost man looks like my next door neighbour, 
 old Booty ; ' but said he did not know the other 
 behind. Booty was dressed in grey clothes, and the 
 one behind him in black ; we saw them run into the 
 burning mountain in the midst of the flames! on 
 which we heard a terrible noise, too horrible to be 
 described. Captain Barnaby then desired us to look 
 at our watches, pen the time down in our pocket 
 books, and enter it on the journals, which we accord- 
 ingly did. When we were laden, we all sailed for 
 England, and arrived at Gravesend on the 6th of 
 October, 1687 ; Mrs. Barnaby and Mrs. Brian came to 
 congratulate our safe arrival, and after some discourse, 
 Captain Bamaby's wife says, ' my dear, I have got 
 some news to tell you ; old Booty is dead.' He swore 
 an oath, and said, ' we all saw him run into Hell ! ' 
 
 "Sometime afterwards, Mrs. Barnaby met with a 
 lady of her acquaintance in London, and told her what 
 her husband had seen concerning Mr. Booty. It came 
 to Mrs. Booty's ears ; she arrested Captain Barnaby in 
 WOOL action ; he gave bail, and it came to trial at the 
 
 B2
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Court of King's Bench, where Mr. Booty's clothes were 
 brought into court. The sexton of the parish, and the 
 people that were with him during his illness, swore to 
 the time when he died, and we swore to our journals, 
 and they came within two minutes. Twelve of our 
 men swore that the buttons of his coat were covered 
 with the same grey cloth, and it appeared to be so. 
 The jury asked Mr. Spinks if he knew Mr. Booty in 
 his life time ? he said he never saw him till he saw him 
 go by him into the burning mountain. The Judge 
 then said, ' Lord grant I may never see the sight that 
 you have seen ; one, two, or three, may be mistaken, 
 but twenty or thirty cannot.' So the widow lost her 
 cause." 
 
 N.B. It is now in the records at Westminster, 
 James the Second, 1687. 
 
 HERBERT, Chief Justice. 
 
 WYTHENS, 
 
 HOLLOWAY, . 
 
 > Justices. 
 
 AND 
 
 WRIGHT,
 
 OLD BOOTY. 
 
 OR 
 
 THE DEVIL AND THE BAKER. 
 
 No moon shone in the sullen sky, 
 Nor gazed one cloud with starry eye, 
 
 But all was gloom around ; 
 Save where Strombolo's burning isle, 
 Upon the darkness deigned to smile, 
 And threw, athwart the shrinking wave, 
 A glare, like that from murderer's glaive, 
 Showing the fated wretch his grave, 
 Deep in some desert ground !
 
 OLD BOOTY. 
 
 No breath was stirring in the air, 
 But all seem'd stifled terror there ; 
 No sea bird wing'd its wheeling flight, 
 
 But e'en the very waves, 
 As conscious of the reign of night, 
 
 Lay hush'd in Ocean's caves ! 
 It was a calm so deep and dead, 
 That (gazing round the while with dread) 
 Each sailor to his shipmate said, 
 
 " There'll be a storm anon ! " 
 And 'twas agreed, to banish sleep, 
 We on the deck a watch should keep, 
 
 Till night and storm were gone ! 
 Our bark lay off that isle of fire, 
 
 So near, no sounds however small, 
 Were murmured by the flames in ire, 
 
 But we could hear them all ! 
 And ever as distinct could see,
 
 OLD BOOTY. 
 
 Lit by the isle's undying light, 
 Through dimmest day and darkest night, 
 Whatever there might chance to be ! 
 
 While in that stagnancy we lay, 
 To wear our heavy watch away, 
 We troll'd the catch and slung the bowl, 
 
 But drank and sang in vain ; 
 Uncheer'd the listless moments roll'd, 
 And ever the more we quaff'd and troll'd, 
 
 The keener grew our pain ! 
 We almost wish'd the storm would break, 
 Our sleeping energies to wake, 
 
 Till thus my mates I spake. 
 " Gather we round, and tell us tales 
 Of battles fierce and dreadful gales, 
 Time then will speed with flying sails, 
 
 Till morning's dawn we make."
 
 OLD BOOTY. 
 
 They took my counsel, every man, 
 And at their call I first began ; 
 
 I told a tale right strange, 
 Of the mysterious ways of fate, 
 And changes that befall the great, 
 As well as those of lowly state, 
 
 While through the world we range : 
 And thought I well had play'd my part, 
 And brac'd my nerves, and steel'd my heart, 
 
 To hear what followed after ! 
 I did not tarry long, for soon 
 Each jolly heart, companions boon, 
 
 Told marvels, stranger, dafter ; 
 Of buccaneer and pirate bold, 
 Sailing through seas of blood for gold : 
 And Lapland witch, holding by spell 
 The mighty winds, to give and sell ! 
 Which, when the mariners heard tell,
 
 OLD BOOTY. 11 
 
 It check'd each thought of laughter. 
 Then came dark tales of spectres drear, 
 That ever, in the hour of fear, 
 Uprouse them from the yawning deep, 
 To scare the guilfy wight from sleep ; 
 With many a fact, attested well, 
 Of monsters that in ocean dwell, 
 Which being only seen at sea, 
 Landsmen hold fabulous to be : 
 Of mermaids singing all so sweet, 
 
 And looking all so fair, 
 Which it is dangerous to meet, 
 
 For then of storms beware ! 
 Of mermen and the syren crew, 
 And other prodigies as true ! 
 Of portent dire that fate unveil'd, 
 And omen that had never fail'd. 
 What ills were on the vessel pour'd,
 
 12 OLD BOOTY. 
 
 That chanc'd to have dead men on board. 
 What storms that mariner would scare, 
 Who, when at sea, should rashly dare 
 
 To whistle to the wind ! 
 And how, when certain birds appear, 
 Pilots know rocks or storms are near, 
 
 And they must harbour find ! 
 One spake of that dread sloop of sprites, 
 By wandering seamen seen at nights, 
 
 Which sails like lightning by ; * 
 Another spake of those blue lights, 
 
 Which warn when death is nigh ; 
 While others told of ghastly sights, 
 
 Whose hearing seared the eye ! 
 
 Holding them as gospel true, 
 Together we still closer drew, 
 
 * The Flying Dutchman.
 
 OLD BOOTY. 13 
 
 When, on a sudden, all our crew 
 
 Were hush'd, for twelve bells rung ; 
 And from the shore a shriek was heard, 
 Which never came from beast or bird, 
 
 Which palsied every tongue ! 
 As motionless and mute as stone, 
 We all were in a moment grown, 
 
 And gaz'd upon each other ; 
 When straight another scream was heard, 
 And that was followed by a third, 
 
 We did not need another. 
 The first was loud as northern blast, 
 But it was silence to the last ! 
 They sounded agonized and shrill, 
 
 As those in terror made 
 By men, whom ruffians seek to kill, 
 
 Imploring life and aid ! 
 Making each seaman's spirit shrink,
 
 14 OLD BOOTY. 
 
 For what was each to think ? 
 
 Twas plain that from the shore they came, 
 
 That shore, where there was only flame ! 
 
 What heart could hear, nor sink ? 
 
 However, the first panic past, 
 
 (With British tars fear cannot last) 
 
 All eyes were on the island cast. 
 
 Fierce glowed its flames, and all was light, 
 And by that light, with eyes that fain 
 Would doubt, but could not, 'twas so plain, 
 
 We saw a ghastly sight ! 
 
 Though heaven loured darkly on that isle, 
 
 All there was light as is noon's smile 
 
 And to the shore we were so near, 
 
 He had been blind, who saw not clear 
 As e'er he saw in day. 
 
 Long years have pass'd since that dread night, 
 
 Yet still I tremble with affright,
 
 OLD BOOTY. 15 
 
 To say what I must say ; 
 Yea, even now my blood it chills, 
 
 To think what horrors we beheld 
 Upon that isle of burning hills, 
 Of brimstone pools and sulphur rills, 
 
 By living flames impell'd ! 
 But with my mates, in hall of law, 
 
 I've sworn on holy sacrament, 
 To what that fearful night we saw ; 
 
 And were I on my death bed bent, 
 I would not spare again to say 
 What I have said ! But to my lay. 
 
 No sooner had we turn'd our eyes 
 Upon that isle, but with surprise, 
 
 Surprise with horror fraught ! 
 We plainly saw a wretched man, 
 Upon the burning ground who ran,
 
 16 OLD BOOTY. 
 
 Close followed by a griesly troop, 
 
 That hunted him with screech and whoop, 
 
 And dread forebodings wrought ! 
 No sons of mortal men were they, 
 So strange their form and their array ; 
 Dark, gaunt, and airy as the wind, 
 Which they in speed left far behind, 
 They skimm'd along, and, to my mind, 
 
 Mov'd like to fiendish things ! 
 Feet had they, which, to my surprise, 
 They us'd not, (if were true mine eyes). 
 Their motion was awheel, a stream, 
 A flickering as of fire light gleam, 
 
 Flying as if with wings ; 
 
 Defying stop, defying toil, 
 
 Meet natives they of such a soil ! 
 Their eyes glar'd fire, their breath was flame, 
 Their looks could nothing mortal claim,
 
 OLD BOOTY. 17 
 
 But mock'd the human eye. 
 Oh heaven ! I cried, they're not of us, 
 But offspring of foul Succubus, 
 
 By damned Incubii ! 
 In hands of bone they torches held, 
 With which their victim they impell'd, 
 
 To where the fire most fiercely glow'd. 
 Right scantly did that victim seem, 
 
 To like the journeying such road ; 
 Showing his hate with many a scream, 
 At every fiery goad ! 
 
 He was of very different bearing, 
 In form and clothes, 
 Unlike to those, 
 
 Who after him were shouting, tearing. 
 
 A tall stiff wight of bulk withal, 
 
 The greatest marvel still of all, 
 
 c2
 
 18 OLD BOOTY. 
 
 A Quaker's gait and habit wearing ; 
 Of broad grey cloth his formal suit, 
 
 Square cravat and buckled shoe, 
 
 With the broad brimm'd beaver too 
 And the white starch'd band to boot : 
 Great his speed, his travail strong, 
 Wild his steps, but quick and long, 
 As if he each nerve was straining, 
 In the hope of succour gaining ; 
 
 'Twas a feeble hope, pardie ! 
 Now so strange, though, on that isle, 
 
 That tall and ghastly form to see, 
 Though sorely marvelling the while, 
 
 Strange that form seem'd not to be ; 
 No ! upon us flash'd a beam 
 
 Of memory all suddenly : 
 Like morning thought of nightly dream, 
 
 Twas indistinct and yet 'twas clear,
 
 OLD BOOTY. 19 
 
 We knew not well how it could be, 
 It is as strange to tell as hear ; 
 
 On our minds a thought there fell, 
 We wist not how, but it seemed there,- 
 We knew that strange form well ! 
 
 And as it drew nearer, nearer, 
 As it nearer, nearer drew, 
 
 And our party saw it clearer, 
 Clearer that conviction grew ! 
 
 We the knowledge could not smother, 
 
 But commun'd it to each other ; 
 
 Yet 'twas but by looks we spake, 
 
 None that silence dar'd to break, 
 
 Terror-tied was every tongue ! 
 Nay , so dread was our surprise, 
 We almost fear'd to speak with eyes, 
 
 And breathless all we hung, 
 
 As we were bound on dangerous duty,
 
 20 OLD BOOTY. 
 
 Or had seen the death of beauty, 
 Or heard our own knells rung ! 
 
 But once more to this fearful man ; 
 Now in a line with us he ran, 
 And louder rose his followers' ban, 
 
 More fiercely flashed the flame ; 
 In expectant mood we stood, 
 
 Anxious, oh, excessively ! 
 Invoking saint and martyr good, 
 That for us had shed their blood, 
 
 Wondering what we next should see, 
 When, suddenly, the fearful man ! 
 Tell the dread tale I scarcely can ; 
 
 Right opposite to us he carce, 
 We saw his face, 
 The saints have grace, 
 With the burning haste of flame,
 
 OLD BOOTY. 21 
 
 Upon our tongues there rushed his name ! 
 And all our crew, with one accord, 
 So instant, that it seemed a word, 
 
 Cried" "Tis OLD BOOTY, 'tis ! 
 Old Booty ! he ! the wicked Quaker ! 
 The foul monopolizing baker ! 
 
 That form is surely his ! 
 None e'er wore such mortality, 
 Yes, 'tis Old Booty ! yes, 'tis he ! 
 He who still would grind the poor ; 
 Who when their gamers all were bare, 
 And in each face woke famine's glare, 
 Still scoff'd their wants with miser lore : 
 Was iron, stone ! 
 To every one, 
 
 More hard more cold, and devilishly, 
 With looks, that demon's seem'd to be, 
 Would mock at their extremity,
 
 2'2 OLD BOOTY. 
 
 And basely add to their despair 
 
 To swell his vast ungodly store ! 
 Though all around broke famishing cries, 
 And eating looks from hungry eyes, 
 
 And biting words from gnashing tongues, 
 
 More keen from undeserved wrongs, 
 Would keep his groaning garners fast, 
 Till mildew ate what Christians should, 
 And the blessed corn was vermin's food." 
 These thoughts all flash'd like lightning, o'er 
 Minds, that of Booty, long before, 
 
 Had lost all thought, all trace ; 
 We look'd again : too sure 'twas he ; 
 That form none other wight's could be, 
 
 Nor could that well remembered face, 
 
 Though seen in such unwonted place. 
 Dark thoughts we could not now control ; 
 " What makes him here from Limehouse Hole !
 
 OLD BOOTY. 23 
 
 " Pardie ! it must be thing of need ! 
 
 " Some horrid exigence indeed, 
 To urge him to such fearful goal, 
 As couch him with the living coal ; 
 And who can be the wights that follow, 
 So swift that run, so loud that hollow ; 
 Those wights so griesly, lithe and dark, 
 That through the fire, like smithy spark, 
 
 With devious and dazzling flight, 
 Pass on so brief and light ? 
 
 Fast, and more fast, on, on they go, 
 Loud, and more loud, their mock and moe ; 
 Now, now, they make that mountain pyre, 
 And now, and now, they draw more near. 
 Our eyeballs ache, our senses sear : 
 
 Ave Marie ! 
 
 Ah ! can it be ?
 
 24 OLD BOOTY. 
 
 Great Heavens, it is, see ! see ! see ! see ! 
 Jesu ! they're plunging in the fire !- 
 They thread that mouth of ore and flame, 
 Which looks like that we dare not name, 
 
 Making us fearfully admire ! 
 That wretched' man he plung'd in first, 
 And from it, flames more fierce there burst, 
 And all the.rout, 
 
 A horrid shout, 
 * 
 
 A something between scream and laughter, 
 
 Yell'd forth ; e'en now I hear that cry, 
 It seem'd to startle earth and sky, 
 
 Announcing they their prize had won, 
 
 Their devilish business they had done ; 
 Then, strangely slipping from the eye, 
 
 With sudden glee, all, one by one, 
 They followed after ! 
 
 We heard no more ! we saw no more !
 
 OLD BOOTY. 25 
 
 Nor was there need, the scene was o'er ! 
 
 This last dread sight, 
 
 O'erpowered us, quite, 
 And, on the deck, in deadly swoon, 
 The stoutest of us there fell down, 
 As we but children were ; 
 
 How long we lay, 
 
 T'were hard to say ; 
 I was the last that lost my sense, 
 As store have told, since sailing thence. 
 The tale may void of truth appear, 
 But this I will not shrink to swear, 
 There lay we, all as stiff and still, 
 As powerless of thought and will, 
 As though we dead men were ! 
 
 While thus enwrapped in deadly stound, 
 Moments, minutes, pass'd away,
 
 26 OLD BOOTY. 
 
 The hours fled on, a night, a day, 
 
 Before we motion found ; 
 And when we woke again to life, 
 Such was reviving nature's strife, 
 So keen the throe, so deep the sigh, 
 More pain it seem'd than 't'were to die ! 
 But forc'd by dint of breathing, seeing, 
 To feel the consciousness of being, 
 Upon each other did we stare, 
 
 As we each had spectres been ; 
 And still we on that isle did glare, 
 
 Remembering what we there had seen, 
 And fearing it again might be : 
 But no word, 
 From one was heard, 
 T'would seem we had lost reason's powers. 
 
 The several duties that were ours,
 
 OLD BOOTY. 27 
 
 Like to clock-work things we did, 
 
 Unconsciously, uncheer'd, unbid ; 
 
 Watch on watch pass'd ere we spake, 
 
 All that stupor fear'd to break. 
 Silently we mov'd about 
 Scarce conversing e'en by sign, 
 
 Yet each man his log made out, 
 
 That his being none might doubt, 
 I for that, at least kept mine. 
 
 Till, at length, ('twas o'er the can,) 
 
 Some to whisper low began, 
 But all and each, 
 Breath'd but such speech, 
 
 As " horrible ! oh horrible ! 
 
 What we've seen here who dare tell !" 
 
 And ever and anon, there ran 
 
 Such phrase as this, " Oh fearful man ! 
 
 Saints save us from the powers of hell ! "
 
 28 OLD BOOTY. 
 
 It seem'd these words, though, broke the charm 
 Recovering our first dread alarm, 
 
 We 'gan to commune on the act, 
 
 And argue if indeed 'twere fact, 
 Or but some phantasy or dream ! 
 
 And very soon we all agreed, 
 However wondrous it might seem, 
 
 It was a veritable deed, 
 
 And true as is our holy creed ! 
 Then, thinking that those Christian wights, 
 
 Wherever we might chance to range, 
 As sailor still in tale delights, 
 
 Might scant be of belief, 
 We held it good to certify, 
 Beyond bare word, 
 By sign'd record, 
 
 Of matter full, though brief, 
 Attesting well,
 
 OLD BOOTY. 29 
 
 What us befel, 
 And had been seen by every eye ! 
 
 Therefore, with favour of our chief, 
 To this intent, in our log book, 
 
 We minutes took, 
 Of every thing, from first to last, 
 Which on that fatal isle had past. 
 
 An ink-horn man our Captain's clerk, 
 Who had in writing wond'rous power 
 Penn'd down the deed, the place, the hour, 
 The longitude, the latitude, 
 (Commanding well our gratitude,) 
 To which each man subscribed his mark ! 
 " May fifteen, off the Manser Road, 
 Bound to Lucera's Isle, to load, 
 Anchor'd in twelve fathom water, 
 Wind, right in the south-west quarter, 
 
 D 2
 
 30 OLD BOOTY. 
 
 Present, Captains Bristo, Bryan, 
 
 And Spinks, men all can well rely on." 
 
 Now homewards from that isle of flame, 
 
 We turn'd our bark athwart the foam ; 
 Gladly to that isle we came, 
 
 But left it gladlier far for home ! 
 
 Soon England's white cliffs cheer'd our eyes : 
 Blessing then the favouring gale, 
 We furl'd in port our weary sail, 
 
 And each unto the hostel hies ! 
 
 Where, seated o'er the flowing glass, 
 With fiddler blithe and buxom lass, 
 
 We pour'd in marvelling ears the tale : 
 When, to our horror and surprise, 
 
 We heard, it made our senses quail, 
 
 Our eye-balls start, our cheeks grow pale, 
 
 Old Booty rendered up his soul,
 
 OLD BOOTY. 31 
 
 In his own house at Limehouse Hole, 
 To death's grim power, 
 The very hour, 
 
 We saw him in the fiery coal ! 
 Where distant billows roll. 
 
 They doubted us, we doubted them,. 
 
 Each did each alike condemn ; 
 
 Our worthy Captain Barnaby 
 
 (A bluff but honest soul was he) 
 Exclaim'd, when Booty's death was nam'd, 
 
 To those who chanced the tale to tell, 
 
 " Avast there, mate ! what's that you say ? 
 
 Old Booty died in bed ? belay ! 
 By G d we saw him go to hell ! 
 
 Aye, and upon that very day, 
 And all my crew they know it well ; 
 
 So luff there with your death-bed scenes, 
 
 And tell that tale to the Marines,
 
 UUS8 LIBRARY 
 
 32 OLD BOOTY. 
 
 Those lubbers may perhaps receive it, 
 But sailors never will believe it." 
 
 I know not how he could be blam'd, 
 But certainly, as it appears, 
 The story reach'd the widow's ears, 
 And, (though she'd not shed many tears,) 
 
 Because our Captain thus exclaim'd, 
 She thought she injury sustain'd. 
 
 So straightway she an action brought, 
 
 By which large damages she sought, 
 For libel on the memory 
 Of her dead spouse ! 'twas wrong d'ye see, 
 As thought our Captain. What did he ? 
 
 He let no jot his spirits fail, 
 
 But to her action rendered bail, 
 And left the big wigs to decide. 
 'Twas in Banco Regis tried ;
 
 OLD BOOTY. 33 
 
 Chief Justice Herbert heard the cause, 
 With Withens, Holloway and Wright, 
 
 And counsel learned in the laws. 
 
 The Court, be sure, was crowded quite : 
 
 After detailing the report, 
 
 Old Booty's clothes were brought in court ; 
 
 The sexton of the parish then, 
 
 With half a dozen other men, 
 
 Some who had been at his bed-side, 
 
 Swore to the moment Booty died ; 
 
 Of course confoundedly they lied, 
 
 As we all proved on our side. 
 
 Our crew, full thirty hands or more, 
 
 Luffup unto our journals swore ; 
 
 When it was found on calculation 
 
 That not two minutes' variation 
 
 Ensued 'twixt their and our narration.
 
 34 
 
 OLD BOOTY. 
 
 The jury all were at a stand ; 
 The lubbers never had left land ! 
 Perhaps one half of them were brib'd ! 
 But when twelve of our men describ'd 
 The very buttons he had on, 
 Grey cloth ! it staggered every one ! 
 The judge he lifted up his hand,
 
 OLD BOOTY. 35 
 
 And said, " Lord grant I ne'er may see, 
 The horrid sight that you have seen ! 
 
 One, or two, or haply three, 
 
 Mistaken may by chance have been, 
 
 For error is our mortal lot ; 
 
 But twenty, thirty men, cannot ! 
 Placed the first here in command, 
 Tis fit that you should understand, 
 
 We must decide as bid the laws : 
 
 The widow she hath lost her cause." 
 
 Of course well pleased we left the Court 
 This verdict silenced each report. 
 Yet still, e'en to this very day, 
 There are not wanting some that say, 
 (May the swabs live upon salt junk) 
 That all we noted in our log, 
 Was but the visions of our grog,
 
 36 
 
 OLD BOOTY. 
 
 And that the night old Booty died, 
 And we his ghost so strangely spied, 
 The crew and I were dead dead drunk ! 
 - A likely thing ! if any one 
 
 Can credit such a tale I've done ! 
 
 FIN is.
 
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