[from Collected Works, T.E.Brown]

WHITEHAVEN HARBOUR

O, CAN'T she ? Listen ! There's a volley !
Stand to your guns, my Ipswich boy
Chain-shot ahoy!
" Ah, ain't she jolly"
(Young Ipswich telegraphing
To us upon the quay)
" Some credit chaffing
With her!" Decidedly —
The gen'lemen are looking." Yes, we are,
My noble Ipswich tar —
" Ain't her eyes brown?"
(Says telegraph)
" Ah, can't she laugh ?
And ain't she all so nice and pert ? "
Yes, yes ! stand up and flirt !
Flirt for the honour of your native town !
Flirt! flirt! my man of Ipswich. Not so bad!
A good sufficient lad!
See how the strong young hearts
Dance to the tongue-tips ; lightning darts
From eye to eye
The maiden is not shy!
See the two Manxmen on the schooner there,
Who stare
With all their souls in silent admiration
Of such a very excellent flirtation !
Quite out of it —
Those Manxmen — wait a bit —
Poor fellows! Shall we hail them? No?
Ah well, let's go.