Polly. I like a ship in storms was tossed,
Yet afraid to put into land,
For seized in the port the vessel’s lost
Whose treasure is contraband.
The waves are laid,
My duty’s paid;
O joy beyond expression!
Thus safe ashore
I ask no more;
My all is in my possession.
More verses by John Gay
- The Man And The Flea
- Songs From The Beggar’s Opera: Air Iv-Cotillion
- Songs From The Beggar’s Opera: Air Xxvii-“green Sleeves”
- Songs From The Beggar’s Opera: Air Xvi-“over The Hills, And Far Away”
- If The Heart Of A Man