“Then,” said Jemmy, jumping off the table with his fiddle in his hand, “let’s have the roarer by way of a finish—­what d’ye say, my hearties?”

Up they all rose, and gathered together in the centre of the room, save Jemmy Ducks, who, flourishing with his fiddle, commenced.

Jack’s alive and a merry dog,
When he gets on shore,
He calls for his glass of grog,
He drinks, and he calls for more. 
So drink, and call for what you please,
Until you’ve had your whack, boys;
We think no more of raging seas,
Now that we’ve come back, boys.

“Chorus, now—­”

With a whip, snip, high cum diddledy,
The cog-wheels of life have need of much oiling;
Smack, crack—­this is our jubilee;
Huzza, my lads! we’ll keep the pot boiling.

All the seamen joined in the chorus, which they accompanied both with their hands and feet, snapping their fingers at whip and snip, and smacking their hands at smack and crack, while they danced round in the most grotesque manner, to Jemmy’s fiddle and voice; the chorus ended in loud laughter, for they had now proved the words of the song to be true, and were all alive and merry.  According to the rules of the song, Jemmy now called out for the next singer, Coble.

Jack’s alive and merry, my boys,
When he’s on blue water,
In the battle’s rage and noise,
And the main-deck slaughter. 
So drink and call for what you please,
Until you’ve had your whack, boys;
We’ll think no more or angry seas,
Until that we go back, boys.

Chorus.—­With a whip, snip, high cum diddledy,
The cog-wheels of life have need of much oiling;
Smack, crack—­this is our jubilee;
Huzza my lads! we’ll keep the pot boiling.

Jansen and Jemmy Ducks, after the dancing chorus had finished,

Yack alive and merry, my boys,
Ven he get him frau,
And he vid her ringlet toys,
As he take her paw. 
So drink, and call for vat you please. 
Until you hab your vack, boys;
Ve’ll think no more of angry seas,
Till ve standen back, boys.

Chorus and laughter

With a whip, snip, high cum diddledy,
The cog-wheels of life have need of much oiling;
Smack, crack—­this is our jubilee;
Huzza, my lads, we’ll keep the pot boiling.

Bill Spurey—­

Jack’s alive and merry, boys,
When he’s got the shiners;
Heh! for rattle, fun, and noise,
Hang all grumbling whiners. 
Then drink, and call for what you please,
Until you’ve had your whack, boys;
We think no more of raging seas,
Now that we’ve come back, boys.

Chorus.—­With a whip, snip, high cum diddledy,
The cog-wheels of life have need of much oiling;
Smack, crack—­this is our jubilee;
Huzza, my lads! we’ll keep the pot boiling.

“Dick Short must sing.”