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- 14661
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:36.278Z
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- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 14619
- text
- to have a sufficiency of mortals at hand to “sink, burn and destroy;” a
man-of-war, through her vices, hopelessly depraving the volunteer
landsmen and ordinary seamen of good habits, who occasionally
enlist—must feed at the public cost a multitude of persons, who, if
they did not find a home in the Navy, would probably fall on the
parish, or linger out their days in a prison.
Among others, these are the men into whose mouths Dibdin puts his
patriotic verses, full of sea-chivalry and romance. With an exception
in the last line, they might be sung with equal propriety by both
English and American man-of-war’s-men.
“As for me, in all weathers, all times, tides, and ends,
Naught’s a trouble from duty that springs;
For my heart is my Poll’s, and my rhino’s my friends,
And as for my life, it’s the king’s.
To rancour unknown, to no passion a slave,
Nor unmanly, nor mean, nor a railer,” etc.
I do not unite with a high critical authority in considering Dibdin’s
ditties as “slang songs,” for most of them breathe the very poetry of
the ocean. But it is remarkable that those songs—which would lead one
to think that man-of-war’s-men are the most care-free, contented,
virtuous, and patriotic of mankind—were composed at a time when the
English Navy was principally manned by felons and paupers, as mentioned
in a former chapter. Still more, these songs are pervaded by a true
Mohammedan sensualism; a reckless acquiescence in fate, and an
implicit, unquestioning, dog-like devotion to whoever may be lord and
master. Dibdin was a man of genius; but no wonder Dibdin was a
government pensioner at £200 per annum.
But notwithstanding the iniquities of a man-of-war, men are to be found
in them, at times, so used to a hard life; so drilled and disciplined
to servitude, that, with an incomprehensible philosophy, they seem
cheerfully to resign themselves to their fate. They have plenty to eat;
spirits to drink; clothing to keep them warm; a hammock to sleep in;
tobacco to chew; a doctor to medicine them; a parson to pray for them;
and, to a penniless castaway, must not all this seem as a luxurious
Bill of Fare?
- title
- Chunk 6