The sailor's choice in Dibdin's exquisite song beginning, “'Twas post meridian half-past four.” At half-past four he parted by signal from his Nancy; at eight he bade her a long adieu; next morn a storm arose, and four sailors were washed overboard, “but love forbade the waves to snatch our tar from Nancy”; when the storm ceased an enemy appeared, but when the battle was hottest our gallant friend “put up a prayer and thought on Nancy.”
Odious! In woollen? `Twould a saint provoke!' Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke.
Miss Nancy. An effeminate young man.