Devonshire Wrestlers

Here buried were some years before,His two wives and five children more:One Thomas named, whose fate was suchTo lose his life by wrestling much.Which may a warning be to allHow they into such pastimes fall.

Here lies, O Time! the victim of thy hand,The noblest wrestler on the British strand,His nervous arm each bold opposer quell'd,In feats of strength by none but thee excell'd,Till, springing up, at the last trumpet's call,He conquers thee, who will have conquer'd all.

Come Vaither, Mother and Brothers all,And Zistur too, I pray,I'll tell ee a power o' the strangest thing'sAs happen'd to me at say.I'll tell ee a parcel o' the strangest thingsAbout the winds and tide,How by compass us steer'd, and o' naught was afear'd,An' a thousand things beside.

'Tes true I lived i' ole Plymouth town,My trade it were ostling,Dick Simmins and I went to Maker GreenTo turn at wrasteling.The prize o' buckskin breeches a pair,And ne'er the wuss for wear,Dick and I us tried two vails apiece,The blind man got his share.

Bevoor the play was o'er half way,'Tes true upon my word,There came a set o' press-gang chapsEach armed wi' stick and sword.Dick Simmins swore a dreadful oathI didn't like to hear,But when King ca'd blind man a fule,That—darn't—I couldn't bear.

I went to t' chap wi' upcock'd hat,"No odds where you may be,But if thou thinks thyself a manCome wi'out the ring wi' me."So he did stand, his sword in hand,I knocked it from his hand,Then three or vour gurt toads came upAnd knocked me down on t' land.

Along came one of Plymouth town,Prentice to Uncle Cross,Wot run away 'bout a bastard child,A terrible lad he wos.

Said he, "Don't sarve the young man so,'Tes an onmanly thing;Pick up the lad, put him on boardThat he may sarve the King."

They took me up by neck and heels,They dra'ed me to the boat,The master came 'longside of meWi', "Send the lubber afloat."They took me up by neck and heels,They dra'ed me to the say,But Providence a-ordered itI shuldn't be killed that way.

They picked me out, put me aboardA ship then in the Sound,The waves and winds did blow and roar,I thought I shu'd be drown'd.Then one called " Tack!" another "Ship!"A third cried "Helm a lee!"Lor' bless'y, I dun knaw Tack from Ship,An' Helm to me's Chinee.

The Master ordered I aloft,'Twas blawin' cruel hard,And there was three or vour gurt chapsA grizzlin' in the yard.When down came mast and down came yard,Then down came I likewise.Lor' bless'y! if the church tower vaall'd,'Twouldn't make half the noise.

Some vaall'd o'erboard, and some on deck,Some had a thundrin' thump,The Master ordered all hands upFor pumpin' at the pump.Us pumped at the pump, my boys,And no one dared to squeak,The Master ordered all belowTo stop a thunderin' leak.

When us had stoppéd up that leakA French ship us spied comin',The Master orders all to fightAnd the drummer to be drummin'.So when the French ship came 'longside,A broadside us let flee,Lor' bless'y! what for smoke and vireUs couldn't smell nor see.

The Master wi' his cocked-up hatHe flourishéd his sword,Wi' "Come and follow me, brave boys,I warn't we'll try to board."I vollowed he thro' thick and thin,Tho' bless'y I culdn't see'n;The gurt French chap was on to heWi' sword both long" and keen.

I rinn'd up to the Master's help,I niver rinn'd no vaster,I zed unto the gurt French chap,"Now don't ee hurt the Master!"Then "Wee, wee, wee, parlez vous Frenchee!"He zed—I reck'n he cuss'd—But "Darny," sez I, "if that's your game,I reck'n I must kill ee fust."

The Master jumped 'bout the French shipAnd tore down all her colours,And us jumped 'bout the French ship, too,A whoppin' them foreign fellers.As for the chap as Master threat'n'dI beat that Parley-vous,From the niddick down his lanky back,Till he squeaked out "Mortbleu!"

Now here's a lesson to volks ashore,And sich as ostlers be,Don't never say Die, and Tain't my trade,But listen, and mark of me.There's nobody knaws wot ee can do,Till tried—now trust me well,Why—us wos ostlers and ort beside,Yet kicked the Frenchies to——Torpoint.