ah, for a song!" cries Jemmy. "Here goes."

Jemmy then tuned one string of his fiddle, which was a little out, and
accompanying his voice, sang as follows: all those who were present
immediately keeping silence, for they were used to Jemmy's melody.

'Twas on the twenty-fourth of June I sail'd away to sea,
I turn'd my pockets in the lap of Susan on my knee;
Says I, my dear, 'tis all I have, I wish that it was more.
It can't be help'd, says Susan then, you know we've spent galore.

You know we've spent galore, my Bill,
And merry have been we,
Again you must your pockets fill,
For Susan on your knee.

"Chorus, my boys--!"

For Susan on my knee, my boys,
With Susan on my knee.

The gale came on in thunder, lads, in lightning, and in foam,
Before that we had sail'd away three hundred miles from home;
And on the Sunday morning, lads, the coast was on our lee,
Oh, then I thought of Portsmouth, and of Susan on my knee.

For howling winds and waves to boot,
With black rocks on the lee,
Did not so well my fancy suit,
As Susan on my knee.

_Chorus_.--With Susan on my knee, my boys,
With Susan on my knee.

Next morning we were cast away upon the Frenchman's shore,
We saved our lives, but not our all, for we could save no more;
They march'd us to a prison, so we lost our liberty,
I peep'd between the bars, and sigh'd for Susan on my knee.

For bread so black, and wine so sour,
And a sou a-day to me,
Made me long ten times an hour,
For Susan on my knee.

_Chorus_.--For Susan on my knee, my boys,
For Susan on my knee.

One night we smash'd our jailer's skull, and off our boat did steer,
And in the offing were pick'd up by a jolly privateer;
We sail'd in her the cruise, my boys, and prizes did take we,
I'll be at Portsmouth soon, thinks I, with Susan on my knee.

We shared three hundred pounds a man,
I made all sail with glee,
Again I danced and toss'd my can,
With Susan on my knee.

_Chorus_--With Susan on my knee, my boys,
With Susan on my knee.

"That's prime, Jemmy. Now, my boys, all together," cried Obadiah Coble.

_Chorus_.--Very good song, and very well sung,
Jolly companions every one;
We are all here for mirth and glee,
We are all here for jollity.
Very good song, and very well sung,
Jolly companions every one;
Put your hats on to keep your beads warm,
A little more grog will do us no harm.

"Hur