Oh some are fond of red wine, and some are fond of white, <br />And some are all for dancing by the pale moonlight: <br />But rum alone’s the tipple, and the heart’s delight <br />Of the old bold mate of Henry Morgan. <br /> <br />Oh some are fond of Spanish wine, and some are fond of French, <br />And some’ll swallow tay and stuff fit only for a wench; <br />But I’m for right Jamaica till I roll beneath the bench, <br />Says the old bold mate of Henry Morgan. <br /> <br />Oh some are for the lily, and some are for the rose, <br />But I am for the sugar-cane that in Jamaica grows; <br />For it’s that that makes the bonny drink to warm my copper nose, <br />Says the old bold mate of Henry Morgan. <br /> <br />Oh some are fond of fiddles, and a song well sung, <br />And some are all for music for to lilt upon the tongue; <br />But mouths were made for tankards, and for sucking at the bung, <br />Says the old bold mate of Henry Morgan. <br /> <br />Oh some are fond of dancing, and some are fond of dice, <br />And some are all for red lips, and pretty lasses’ eyes; <br />But a right Jamaica puncheon is a finer prize <br />To the old bold mate of Henry Morgan. <br /> <br />Oh some that’s good and godly ones they hold that it’s a sin <br />To troll the jolly bowl around, and let the dollars spin; <br />But I’m for toleration and for drinking at an inn, <br />Says the old bold mate of Henry Morgan. <br /> <br />Oh some are sad and wretched folk that go in silken suits, <br />And there’s a mort of wicked rogues that live in good reputes; <br />So I’m for drinking honestly, and dying in my boots, <br />Like an old bold mate of Henry Morgan.<br /><br />John Masefield<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/captain-stratton-s-fancy/
