To Captain Findlay

When the squalls were flitting and fleering

And the vessel was tacking and veering;

Bravo! Captain Findlay,

Who foretold a fair wind

       &nbspOf a constant mind;

For he knew which way the wind lay,

       &nbspBravo! Captain Findlay.





A Health to Captain Findlay,

Bravo! Captain Findlay!

When we made but ill speed with the Speedwell,

Neither poets nor sheep could feed well:

       &nbspNow grief rotted the Liver,

Yet Malta, dear Malta, as far off as ever!





Bravo! Captain Findlay,

Foretold a fair wind,

       &nbspOf a constant mind,

For he knew which way the wind lay!