In Chapter 1 of A Tangled Web, Aunt Becky’s heirloom jug is described:

It was an enormous, pot-bellied thing of a type that had been popular in pre-Victorian days. George the Fourth had been king when the old Dark jug came into being. Half its nose was gone and a violent crack extended around its middle. The decorations consisted of pink-gilt scrolls, green and brown leaves and red and blue roses. On one side was a picture of two convivial tars, backed with the British Ensign and the Union Jack, who had evidently been imbibing deeply of the cup which cheers and inebriates, and who were expressing the feelings of their inmost hearts in singing the verse printed above them:

Thus smiling at peril at sea or on shore
We’ll box the old compass right cheerly,
Pass the grog, boys, about, with a song or two more,
Then we’ll drink to the girls we love dearly.

On the opposite side the designer of the jug, whose strong point had not been spelling, had filled in the vacant place with a pathetic verse from Byron:

The man is doomed to sail
With the blast of the gale
Through billows attalantic to steer.
As he bends o’er the wave
Which may soon be his grave
He remembers his home with a tear.

Here is one variation of the street ballad, “The Heart That Can Feel for Another.”  The version on the Dark Jug varies slightly.

The Heart That Can Feel for Another

JACK STEADFAST and I were both mates at sea,
And plough’d half the world o’er together,
And many hot battle encounter’d have we,
Strange climates and all sorts of weather.
But seamen you know are insur’d to hard gales,
Determin’d to stand by each other,
And the boast of a tar where so ever he sails,
Is the heart that can feel for another.

When often suspended ‘twixt water and sky,
And death yawn’d on all sides around us,
Jack Steadfast and I scorn’d to murmur or sigh
For danger could neverconfound us,
Smooth seas and rough billows to us were the same,
Contented we must brave one or t’other,
And like jolly tars in life’s chequer’d gales,
Give the heart that can feel for another.

Thus smiling at peril at sea or on shore,
We box’d the old compass right cheerly,
Toss’d the can bouys about, and a word more,
Yes drink to the girls we love dearly.
For sailors, pray mind me, though strange kind of fish,
Love the girls just as dear as their mother,
And what’s more they love what I hope you a wish,
Is the heart that can feel for another

Source

Collection of Eighty Street Ballads. http://mh.cla.umn.edu/heart.html