Any song or recital concerning Nelson, Collingwood, or the later sea hero, Charley Napier, was eminently popular, and to break down in the rendering of any one of these was an offence to their exalted memories.  “The Sailor’s Grave,” which I regret is not included in Mr. Ashton’s collection, was in great demand when the sailors were in a solemn mood.  Both the words and the tune were ridiculously weird, and when it came to the details of the hero’s illness, his looks after death, the sewing up in his hammock, and the tying of two round shots at his feet for sinking purposes, the artist always sang with his hands linked in front of him and his eyes cast heavenward gazing fixedly at a spot on the ceiling.  Then came the burial verse:—­

    A splash and a plunge, and his task was o’er,
    And the billows rolled as they rolled before,
    And many a wild prayer followed the brave,
    As he sunk beneath a sailor’s grave.

This verse always drew tears from the sentimentalists in the audience, and if the singer had pleased by his efforts the song ended in a roar of tumultuous applause.

I have thought it appropriate to add to these doggerel rhymes “The Battle of Copenhagen,” “The Death of Nelson,” and “The Arethusa.”  These are sea songs, not sailor’s songs, and are of distinctly greater merit, but as two of them deal with Nelson, and as all three have always been most popular, they may not be out of place here.

I

THE BATTLE OF THE NILE

    ’Twas on the forenoon, the first day of August,
    One thousand seven hundred and ninety-eight,
    We had a long pursuit after the Toulon fleet;
    And soon we let them know that we came for to fight. 
    We tried their skill, it was sore against their will,
    They knew not what to think of our fleet for a while,
    But, before the fray began, we resolved to a man,
    For to conquer or to die at the mouth of the Nile.

    When our guns began to play, with many a loud huzza,
    Resolving to conquer, or die, to a man,
    And when our sails were bending, Old England was depending,
    Waiting our return from the Mediterranean. 
    Our bull dogs they did roar, and into them did pour,
    With rattling broadsides made brave Nelson to smile,
    Gallant Nelson gave command, altho’ he’d but one hand,
    British sailors jumped for joy at the mouth of the Nile.

    Night drawing on, we formed a plan
    To set fire to one hundred and twenty guns,
    We selected them with skill, and into them did drill,
    We secured all our shipping, and laughed at the fun. 
    About ten o’clock at night, it was a broiling fight,
    Which caused us to muzzle our bull dogs for a while,
    The L’Orient blew up, and round went the cup,
    To the glorious memorandum at the mouth of the Nile.