SONGS AND BALLADS (continued 2)

Let England, and Ireland, and Scotland rejoyce, And render thanksgiving with heart and with voice. That surly fanatick that now will not sing, Is false to the kingdom, and foe to the King; For he that will grutch, Our fortune is such, Doth deal for the devil, as well as the Dutch; For why should my nature or conscience repine, At taking of his life, that fain would have mine. So high a victory we could not command, Had it not been gain’d by an Almighty hand, The great Lord of Battels did perfect this work, For God and the King, and the good Duke of York; Whose courage was such, Against the Low-Dutch, That vapour’d and swagger’d, like Lords in a hutch; But, let the bold Hollander burn, sink, or swim, They have honour enough to be beaten by him. Fire, aire, earth, and water, it seems were imploy’d, To strive for the conquest which we have injoy’d, No honour, or profit, or safety can spring, To those that do fight against God and the King; The battel was hot, And bloudily fought, The fire was like rain, and like hail was the shot, For in this ingagement ten thousand did bleed Of Flemmings, who now are the Low-Dutch indeed. In this cruel conflict stout Opdam was slain, By the great Duke of York, and lies sunk in the main, ’Twas from the Duke’s frigat that he had his doome, And by the Duke’s valour he was overcome; It was his good fate, To fall at that rate, Who sink under Princes, are buried in state. Since valour and courage in one grave must lye, It is a great honour by great hands to dye. That gallant bold fellow, the son of Van Trump, Whose brains were beat out by the head of the Rump, Ingaging with Holmes, a brave captain of ours, Retreated to Neptune’s salt, waterie bowers: His fate was grown grim, He no longer could swim, But he that caught fishes, now fishes catch him, They eat up our fish, without reason or lawes, But now they are going to pay for the sauce. To mock at men’s miserie is not my aime, It never can add to an Englishman’s fame, But I may rejoyce that the battel is wonn, Because in the victory God’s will is done; Whose justice appears In such great affairs, Who will for Amboina plague them and their heirs: For he that did cumber his conscience with gilt, In shedding of blood, his own shall be spilt. In this cruel contest (our fortune was such), We tooke seventeen men-of-war from the Dutch, And likewise (as then the occasion requir’d, And as God would have it) fourteen more were fir’d. At Amboina, when They tortur’d our men, They look’d not to have the same paid them agen: With fire and with water their sinews they crack’t, In fire and in water they dy’d for the fact. According as our God of battel commanded, The best of their vessels were fir’d and stranded; All ships, men-of-war; for what power hath man To fight with that army, when God leads the van? They steere and they stem, But ’twas so extream, But men were neer dying, with killing of them; They lost, when the muskets and cannons so thunder’d, Twice so many thousand, as we have lost hundred. ’Twould make a brave Englishman’s heart leap to see’t, But forty ships made an escape of their fleet; Which our men pursue with much courage and strength ’Tis doubtless but we shall surprize them at length; If God be our guide, And stand by our side, We shall be befriended with fair wind and tide; If Providence prosper us with a good gale, The Dutch, nor the devil shall ever prevaile. Prince Rupert like lightning flew through their fleet, Like flame mix’d with powder, their army did meet, Ten thousand slain bodies the ocean orespread, That in few hours distance, were living and dead; Their Admirals all, Save one, there did fall, And death had command like a chief general. Brave Smith in the Mary did shave out his way As reapers do wheat, or as mowers do hay. Stout Lawson and Minn there did play both their parts, Who emptied their guns in their enemies hearts, The burly fat Dutchmen being cut out in slips, The vessels did look more like shambles than ships. God prosper the fleete, And send they may meet De Ruiter to make up the conquest compleat, God bless all the princes, and every thing That fights for the kingdom and prayes for the King.

Plainly demonstrating the justness of his cause, Incouraging his friends, to daunt his foes: For King and countrey, in the seas he’ll perish, To tame the rebells, and make England flourish.

I am an undaunted seaman, and for King Charles I will fight: I’le venture my life and my fortune to defend my countries right: What enemies ever oppose us my valour with them I will try, And in the Duke’s sight, I’me resolved to fight with a full resolution to dye. My joyes lies on the maine ocean, and my hammock supports my head, The bottom shall be my portion, wherein my grave shall be made: Before the Butter-Box shall my brother abuse, my crimson blood it shall flye, Then tack about fleet, let Trump and us meet, for I came to the seas to dye. Now Jocky begins to be civil, and aloud for a King he doth cry: The Dutch are as false as the devil, still working of tretchery: With the sound of our drums, and smoak of our guns, we mean for to darken the skie, For the Duke and his fleet, once more will you meet, with a full resolution to dye. Slip not your necks out of your collars, but come on with a chearful heart: We mean to have some of your dollars before that our fleets do part: Then drink up your brandy-wine cheerely, to Trump and his company, For the Duke and his fleet, once more will you meet, with a full resolution to dye. Brave General Monck will defeat you, and teach you good manners to know, You know that before he did beat you, and made you to cringe full low: He’l make you all know to your sorrow, ’twere better Peccavi to cry, Then for to stand out, the tother odd bout, and in the seas perish and dye. Stout Smith that noble Commander, of his valour again you must taste: He’le shew you the English banner and send you away at a blast, As Opdam was served before you, when into the aire he did flie: Then you will repent, that e’re you were bent upon the main ocean to dye. Brave Holmes and Mimms they have vowed, for Charles our King they will stand, The rebells they shall be subdued and quell’d in the turn of a hand: For whilst that our ships can sail, boyes, we scorn a ship’s length for to flie: Pay your money with speed, for that we do need, or else come to the seas to dye. The seas were never so graced, with so many brave gallants before, Your men of war shall be chased and beaten home to your own door: We’l block you up in your own harbours, and our cannon bullets shall flye, For the Duke and his fleet, once more will you meet with a full resolution to dye. What, must we still wait on your leasure, or is not your money yet coyn’d? We mean to have some of your treasure for no children of us you shall find: We scorn for to wait on such puppies, we have other fish for to fry: Then hang up your States, your masters and mates, that sent you to seas for to dye. Then leave of your jeering and mocking, and murmure at home and repine, ’Tis better then for to be knocking upon the salt ocean brine: Then cast up your caps and be merry, brave English boyes let them flye, And pray for King Charles and his navy, and let the proud Hollanders dye.

String up your hearts, and tune your throats, With merry and triumphant notes; Send sorrow from your souls away, You never had more cause for joy: The creeple may cast away his crutch, And dance the downfal of the Dutch. Great Brittain now may take it’s ease, King Charles is Soveraign of the seas. The first and second day of June, Put Holland’s trumpets out of tune; Prince Rupert and the Duke to boot, Have given the Dutch-men all the rout: So bloudily they cut their coats, And bruis’d and bang’d and burn’d their boats, They ne’re will offer to displease, King Charles their Soveraign of the seas. If number would have won the day, We were less numerous than they; When sixteen Zealand ships came in, If odds would doo’t, they needs must win: For they were ninety-six compleate, But who can save, whom Heaven will beat. When God his mercy will express, Unto the Soveraign of the seas. The Duke with loyalty inrag’d, With fifty, ninety-six ingag’d; But thirty of the Dutch (to meet Prince Rupert) then did quit their fleet, Thinking to seize the Prince by slight, Before their forces could unite: But no such shallow plots as these, Can cheat the Soveraign of the seas. The Prince and Duke did nobly fayn, Their loyal forces both combine; And on the foaming billows curl’d, They bid defiance to the world: The Dutch ingage with all their powers, And scatter on us shot like showers; But ’tis not such poor powers, as these, Can quell the Soveraign of the seas. Almost as swiftly as desir’d, Fourteen of theirs were took and fir’d; But their Vice-Admiral did meet, Our Duke i’ th’ front of all his fleet: They were so near they might have clutcht, Almost shook hands, their yard-arms touch’d; But George’s broad-side did displease, The foe to th’ Soveraign of the seas. The fight was then so fierce and hot, His hand was bruis’d, his breeches shot; Yet though they came so hotly on, As soon they vanish’d and were gon; Forty or fifty men of ours, Were kill’d and knock’d down by their powers, Yet some of these (though with much pain) Appear’d upon the decks again. Prince Rupert like the god of war, Through their fleet shot like a star; Whose influence like lightning shone, And pierc’d the marrow through the bone: The seas with bloud were much imbru’d, The Dutch-men fled, our men pursu’d, Till none were seen that could displease, King Charles the Soveraign of the seas. So long as we had powder, we Pursu’d the Dutchmen through the sea; And their du Ruiter, he in whom, They builded all their hopes to come: Four of their greatest ships were sunck, They cry, ‘The devil’s in the Monck,’ Never such men appear’d like these, To guard the Soveraign of the seas. A gallant ship of theirs was fyr’d, With seventy six guns double tyr’d; Our Henery, a ship of fame, From three fire-ships escap’d the flame: And was so strong beset, that then She lost at least one hundred men. We must indure such hurts as these, To guard the Soveraign of the seas. By sea, so black and red a fight, No time or age e’er brought to light; The fire and water did contend, Which should first bring them to their end: More valiant men kill’d in three dayes, Then three and twenty years can raise. We can’t afford such brunts as these, To guard the Soveraign of the seas. On Whitsunday the Duke did send His men for cure, and ships to mend Unto our English coast, where care Is taken for their swift repair: These cards thus dealt, out of the lump, The Royal Katherine turn’d up trump. A sacrifice which doth appease The Royal Soveraign of the seas. To summe up all, ’tis thought they are Unfit to raise another war; ’Tis much presum’d, ’cause they did fail, When they had made out all their sayl: These are some of those warlike tricks, Becket presag’d in sixty six. Yet alwayes such events as these Secure the Soveraign of the seas.

Rejoyce, rejoyce, brave English boys, For now is the time to speak our joys; The routed Dutch are run away, And we have clearly won the day; We now are masters of the seas, And may with safety live at ease. Then Butter-boxes all lament, For now you are paid to your own content. You thought to rule as Lords and Kings, But now we’ve taught you better things, Methinks you might have known before, What ’twas, to come so near our shore. You often times have tri’d our force, And still you alwaies had the worse; Then Butter-boxes all lament, For now you are paid to your own content. The Dutch are grown so wise and sage, Without great ods they’l not ingage; Brave Englishmen will never grutch, With twenty sail, to fight forty Dutch, And bring their Lordships by the lee, And pay them home for the treachery. Then Butter-boxes all lament, For now you are paid to your own content. Whilst that our ships were fitting forth, They counted us men of little worth; Upon our coast they made great shows, Not thinking to be paid with blows, But when our fleet did once appear, O then their hearts were fill’d with fear. Then Butter-boxes all lament, For now you are paid to your own content. July the five and twentieth day, Began this sharp and bloody fray. At noon the fleets were both ingag’d, And men on each side were inrag’d, The bullets they did flie amain, And some were wounded, others slain. Then Butter-boxes all lament, For now you are paid to your own content. Prince Rupert and brave General Monk, So pelted Ruyter and Vantrump, That they were in a chafing sweat, And thought it safest to retreat, By little and little they shrunk away, Their want of courage did them betray. Then Butter-boxes all lament, For now you are paid to your own content. Five hours they fought couragiously, Before the Dutch began to flie, But then their fleet was severed quite, Whilest we maintain’d a chasing fight, For two dayes space we did pursue, And pelted them till their sides look’d blew. Then Butter-boxes all lament, For now you are paid to your own content. Sir Jeremy Smith did roughly greet, The Admiral of the Zealand fleet, With fire and ball he made them run, Untill the victory he had won, Most bravely he maintain’d the fight, Till they divided were by night. Then Butter-boxes all lament, For now you are paid to your own content. Brave Allen and Holmes fought like men, And chas’d the Dutch with five to ten, So sharply did they ply the fight Till all the Dutch were Arouted quite, The Flemmings they found such boisterous play, That they in plain terms ran away. Then Butter-boxes all lament, For now you are paid to your own content. Eight ships of theirs we sunk and fired, Which for to save they much desired, And kill’d great numbers of their men, Where we lost one still they lost ten, We lost a stately ship and tall The Resolution we did call. Then Butter-boxes all lament, For now you are paid to your own content. Our Generals (blest be God) are well, And all our fleet as we hear tell, Lies daring on the Holland coast, The Dutch have now no cause to boast, ’Tis said de Ruyter and Trump are slain, And never will face their foes again. Then Butter-boxes all lament, For now you are paid to your own content. The cannons from the Tower did roar, When this good news did come to shore, The bells did ring and bone-fires shine, And healths carrous’d in beer and wine. God bless King Charles and all our fleet, And grant true friends may safely meet. Then Butter-boxes brag no more, For now we have beaten you or’e and or’e.

The weather is clear, which was late overcast And our long expectations are answer’d at last, With news from the navie, which I shal impart Enough to rejoyce every English-mans heart, That’s honest and true, (And is not a Jew) But would give to God and to Caesar his due. This will be a joyfull and royal relation To such as love God, the King and the nation: Those Dutch demigorgons, God’s power convinces And makes them all servants that aim’d to be princes. On Wednesday last the twenty fift day of July, Came in this narration which Ile tell ye truly, FroAm brave Cap. Talbot a man of stout carriage That then brought a part of this news into Harwich, Both ruine and rage, (In brave equipage) Last Wednesday at noone both fleets did ingage The winds were our freinds, and did fill out our sails With very fresh northerly brave top-sail gales; We din’d with the Hogens upon their own coast, You might a had Dutch-men there boild or roast. At first both the navies did fight in a line, Three hours with much fury and force, but in fine, The enemies fleet into three squadrons flew, And Sir Jeremie Smith (Admiral of the Blew) By lot was to face, Persue, and to chase Out the Zelanders squadron, the strongest that was. They fought it out furiously, all the day after, And fiercely encounter’d, like wild-fire and water, A frigat of ours called the Resolution, Was burnt by the Dutch in this depth of confusion. The White and Red squadrons did ply that two other So fast that they almost were choak’d with the smother They tugg’d very hard who should stand it out longest Our Blew was the weakest, the Zealand the strongest, And yet they fight ’Till so late at night, That powder and darkness depriv’d them of sight. The two Holland squadrons both turn’d tail and fled Pursued by the squadrons of our White and Red, Upon Thursday morning betwixt nine and ten, The Zealand’s were cripled and hopp’d home agen. To aid the Blew squadron a thousand stout men Were sent (in the frigats) by Sir William Pen, And Talbot doth tell us ere he did retire, On Wednesday night he saw six Dutch ships on fire; Two hundred almost Of our men were lost, Such victories seldom are gain’d without cost; The Zealanders Admiral some think is gone Unto his last home, when his flag was shot down, ’Tis highly presum’d by the best knowing men, They nere will be able to fight us agen. The prestmen wel mingl’d with stout voluntiers Did drink away dolor and fight away fears: Our small shot did stand to’t with valiant desire, Their guns spit and sparkl’d like bay-leaves in fire; Our cannons did roare They sunk and they tore, Thousands that heard them will nere hear them more. It is better far in a good cause to dye, Then with a bad conscience to live great and high: And in acts of honour there’s no better thing, Then dye a true martyr for God and the King. Our White and Red squadrons Du Ruiter engag’d Five hours, till at last his fierce fury aswaged, He fought as if he had been Mars his own son, From ten in the morning, till three afternoon. Our Red and our White Did dazel his sight, They made him to turn and to run away quite, For no other reason as some men suppose But courage did fall from his heart to his hose: Though bad men seek victory, and think to win it, It never will prosper, if God be not in it. Our frigots persued him, our canons did roare, Until they were come within two miles of shore: Our great ships persu’d, and continu’d the slaughter, So far till they were within six fathom water: They durst not look back, To see what we lack, But posting for life, to their harbors they tack; Their flags being struck, and not set up again, ’Tis thought that Van Trump and Du Ruiter is slain. He that doth protect us, will save us from evil, In spight of the Dutch, the Dane, or the Devil. Besides all the damage our shipping hath done To vessels and men, in their fight, and their run, Two very stout ships we have taken and fir’d, And in them five hundred and ninety men tyr’d, With tugging for that, They cannot get at To make England stoop to their pittyful state; When slaves are turn’d princes, no tyrant so evil, When beggers are mounted, they ride to the Devil, No souls so insulting as such sordid slaves, As climb to preferment on honest mens graves. Our gen’rals and navy, are all safe and sound, The Prince and the Duke have our foes in the pound; They in their own harbors are pris’ners at ease, The King of Great Brittain commands where he please. We ride on the ocean, And waite for the motion, To venter again they have no great devotion. Had they not crept in, they’d been burnt to a cinder And Holland by this time, had been turn’d to tinder. God bless King and Queen, with the Duke and all such, As are friends to Great Brittain, and foes to the Dutch.

There happen’d of late a terrible fray, Begun upon our St. James’s Day, With a thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, Thump, thump, a thump, thump, Where Rupert and George for Charlemaign Swing’d the Dutch again and again (As if they had been but the French or Dane), With a thump, etc. ’Twas brave Tom Allen led the van, Stout Uther, and bold Tiddiman, With a thump, etc.; And then our immortal generalls With twenty thousand thunder-balls Pierc’d their boggie flesh-mud-walls, With a thump, thump, etc. The game was hot, and then you’ll swear That Jordan (Heart of Oak) was there, With a thump, thump, etc.; And gallant Holmes, that never fails, Torn and hurt, yet still prevails, Valiant with or without his sails, With a thump, thump, etc. The Royal Charles was all their aim, (For there they knew was princely game), With a thump, etc. Seven Provinces here spend their quire (De Ruyter’s mighty triple tyre), But had his answer all in fire, With a thump, thump, etc. For here our glorious Prince and Duke Gave him such a sore rebuke, With a thump, etc., That now De Ruyter finds it clear The warlike English have no peer, Who dare do anything but fear A thump, thump, etc. The Soveraign came to revenge her wrongs (Becalm’d a while for want of lungs), Without any thump, etc., But soon as her dredful sail displaied, Good Lord, what lanes and wrecks she made! The devill a Dutch came nigh or staid, For fear of a thump, thump, etc. Her balls of fire, the Flemming sees, Are thrice as big as a Holland cheese, With a thump, etc.; And now they ran, they ran, they ran, And left poor Zealand shift as it can; They made him there rere, who would be the van— —Van Trump, Trump, Trump, etc. The King’s own colours (Red and White) Pursu’d the Boors all day and night, With a thump, etc. O how ’twould Lords and Commons please To see our Soveraign of the Seas Chasing their Seven Provinces, With a thump, etc. Over flatts and banks we fir’d their tails Till we heard their croaking nightingales, With a thump, etc. This difference ’twixt two navies stands: Ours built for the sea, and theirs for the sands; We had sent them else to their last Netherlands With a thump, thump, etc. Their shott still at our tackling flew, Lest when they ran we should pursue, With a thump, etc.; For though the Dutch are sea-men grown, Bold English are the marks-men known, And therefore kill them six for one, With a thump, thump, etc. Our rere was Smith, with other two (Spragge and Kempthorn) both true blew, With a thump, etc. And here the Zealanders came on, Who stoutly gave us gun for gun, Till Holland-like they also run, With a thump, thump, etc. ‘In, in, in, in,’ said valiant Spragge, ‘Wee’l beat this vapouring Trump to th’ Hague’ With a thump, etc. His chaplain fell to his wonted work, Cryed, ‘Now for the King and the Duke of York!’ He prayed like a Christian and fought like a Turk, With a thump, thump, etc. Six thousand Dutch (a Low-Country dish) We sent to their own cozen the fish, With a thump, etc. The rest into holes so tamely crawl That little Fanfan dar’d them all, Great Rupert’s sloop is an admirall. With a thump, thump, etc. What Amsterdamnable cowards are these To boast that they were lords of the seas, With a thump, etc. Their impudent Gazette proclaims How bravely they lock’d up the Thames! But had no leave from Charles or James, And therefore had a thump, thump, etc. And now De Witt’s new Holland Rump (Who rides the States) will burn to th’ stump, With a thump, etc.; For George in England once before Hath fir’d one Rump, and will do more, Till men and bells all Dutch-land o’re Sing rump, rump, etc. Then let them invent some other cheat, Go hang their captains ’cause th’ are beat With a thump, etc. Let Monsieur and Myn Heer that snarls At our Soveraign and Royal Charles, Beware of Ruperts and Albemarles. With a thump, thump, etc. [Sir John Birkenhead.]

A Second Part I here indite Of the English and Dutch bloody fight, With a thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, Thump, thump upon thump. This only tells what was done since The renowned Duke and famous Prince Made the Seven-headed Beast to wince, With a thump, etc. As you the first so sing this too To the French tune call’d Monsieur Ragou With a thump, etc. Or else because that this discourses Of Beaufort’s and De Ruyter’s forces, Call the tune the Dancing Hobby Horses, With a thump, etc. Sing not High English in Low Dutch, Though now our foes are truly such, With a thump, etc. This must be sung, not said at all, And they that sing must rise and fall; In this ballad too the tune is all, With a thump, etc. The terrible fight on St. James’s Day Ended with Ruyter’s running away, With a thump, etc. The first part did th’ officers prayse, The Duke of York and King now saies The sea-men too deserve some bays, With a thump, etc. For though the officers bear the bell The private sea-men rang the Dutch knel, With a thump, etc. The Bores fought well, with brandy drunk; But in two houres their courage sunk, And then like beaten stock-fish stunk, With a thump, etc. Goliath-like look’d Houndsfoot and Skellum, But Monk and’s fryers with sling and stones fell ’um, With a thump, etc. Ruyter swears that Trump came not to ’s aid; Trump swears Ruyter ran like coward, afraid. We had done both their works had they staid, With a thump, etc. While Trump and Ruyter sneake in th’ Welling The brave English land at Uly and Schelling With a thump, etc. A thousand homes with eight score ships We fired like so many chips, And made the States to bite their lips, With a thump, etc. This was a most prodigious rap, To loose five millions at a clap, With a thump, etc. We beg but one boon more, kinde Fates, Their India fleet, and then, proud States, Wee’l make you shit as small as rats, With a thump, etc. Old Rome neere did ought worth a doyt, Compar’d with Holmes’s brave exploit, With a thump, etc. The tale of ten years’ war for Hellen Homer had never thought worth telling Had he but heard of Uly and Schelling, With a thump, etc. Twelve East-land ships did likewise fall in- To the hands of stout Sir Thomas Allen, With a thump, etc. And now, in spite of Adelar And Beaufort too, we’ve pitch and tarr And ropes enough to end the warr With a thump, etc. Our victory hath but one flaw, The unhappy loss of the Breda, Without any thump, etc. On the Dutch coast she ran aground, And without men was strangely found: They merit hanging if not drown’d, With a thump, etc. This vessel’s luck was never good; In her five captains lost their blood, With a thump, etc. At her mishap we must not grutch; ’Twas Heaven’s will it should be such, Because that the ship’s name was Dutch. With a thump, etc. Alas! alas! poor baffl’d Hans, The Dane can’t ayd thee, nor dares France. Thou, thou hast had thump upon thump, Thump, thump upon thump. The Monsieur’s fleet a mangy crew is. Monk’s brave boys eat beef and brewis, Cry, ‘A f—— for Denmark and King Lewis!’ With a thump, etc. Bow then to Charles, distressed States, After so many broken pates, With a thump, thump still upon thump, etc. Beg peace, or next your banks shall rue, And we will give the Divel his due; He shall take Monsieur, the sea drown you; Then are ye both thumpt, and mumpt, and mumpt, etc. Now, to conclude, I will take care, As ballads use to end with prayer, With a thump, etc.; For ballads made of the old fashion Should still conclude with supplication For King and Queen, and the whole nation, With a thump, etc. God bless the Swede, he’s not our foe, And Spain’s King too, though France say no; They both wish the Dutch well thumpt, thumpt, etc. Heaven send our fleet auspicious gales, Our King and Queen a Prince of Wales, And then let who will bite their nayles When we all our foes have thumpt and mumpt, etc.

Ring bells for joy, let none be sad, For now we have news will make you glad, Will make you blith and merry too To see how the Dutch are forc’d to bow: Their brags and boasts will not prevail, We’ll teach them for to lowre their sail. Then, Hogan Mogans, b’ware your pates, For now we shall make you distressed States. We paid you home in July last, And soundly did your sides bumbast; If that you had not swiftly run You surely had been quite undone: But now we are landed on your shore, And found the way to make you poor. Then, Hogan Mogans, b’ware your pates, For now we shall make you distressed States. For all your idle vain excuses E’re long we shall pull up your sluces; Our men have found a way to land, As you by this will understand: It will be but a bitter pill When such sad news your hearts do fill. Then, Hogan Mogans, b’ware your pates, For now we shall make you distressed States. You in your harbours lurk for fear, Not thinking such bad news to hear; We scorn to come and steal your sheep, And then like thieves away to creep: Your towns to burn, and ships to fire, Is work that Englishmen desire. Then, Hogan Mogans, b’ware your pates, For now we shall make you distressed States. Sir Robert Holmes, that valiant knight Had orders upon Tuesday night The Uly Island for to burn And quite destroy’t ere he return: Sir Philip Howard did him assist, Sir William Jennings he did his best. Then, Hogan Mogans, curse your fates, For now we shall make you distressed States. They chose eleven hundred men To pull the Dutch out of their den; With fire-ships, ketches, boats, and hoyes, Well mann’d with lusty English boyes: With joyful hearts they leave the fleet, And sayle away their foes to meet. Then, Hogan Mogans, curse your fates, For now we shall make you distressed States. At length they spy’d without all faile One hundred and seventy saile Of merchant ships which anchored were In Uly road, being void of fear. Sir Robert Holmes he thought it meet With fire-ships to destroy that fleet. Then, Hogan Mogans, ’ware your pates, For now we shall make you distressed States. So hotly they pursued the game That straight the fleet was on a flame: Some frigats which the rest did guard, Just like their neighbours, so they far’d; Our men most furiously were bent, And burnt them down incontinent. Then, Hogan Mogans, ’ware your pates, For now we shall make you distressed States. This being done away we haste, The Schelling Island for to waste, And there we fright our cowardly foes, And land our men where none oppose. Then up we martch into the isle, Our crafty foes for to beguile. Then, Hogan and Mogans, ’ware your pates, For now we shall make you distressed States. When they heard of our coming nigh, Away they fled, all that could flye, And left their goods and all the rest, To be dispos’d as we thought best. The bravest town in all that place We burnt quite down and did deface. Now, Hogan Mogans, beware your pates, For now we shall make you distressed States. Our men had plunder there good store, To make them rich, they’l ne’er be poor; They brought away great store of plate, And now they quaff their cups in state; Their cabbins are like gold-smith shops, God send us many such like crops. Now, Hogan Mogans, curse your fates, For now we shall make you distressed States. Their trugtail’d frows were in a maze To see their town all on a blaze; They wept and waild and wrung their jaws, And cursed their States, which was the cause. May all that’s enemies to our King Be brought to such like banquetting. Now, Hogan Mogans, curse your fates, For now we shall make you distressed States.

One day, as I was sitting still Upon the side of Dunwich Hill, And looking on the ocean, By chance I saw De Ruyter’s fleet With Royal James’s squadron meet; In sooth it was a noble treat To see that brave commotion. I cannot stay to name the names Of all the ships that fought with James, Their number, or their tonnage; But this I say: the noble host Right gallantly did take its post, And covered all the hollow coast From Walderswyck to Dunwich. The French, who should have join’d the Duke, Full far astern did lag and look, Although their hulls were lighter: But nobly faced the Duke of York, Tho’ some may wink and some may talk, Right stoutly did his vessel stalk To buffet with De Ruyter. Well might you hear their guns, I guess, From Sizewell Gap to Easton Ness, The show was rare and sightly: They batter’d without let or stay, Until the evening of that day,— ’Twas then the Dutchmen run away, The Duke had beat them tightly. Of all the battles gain’d at sea This was the rarest victory Since Philip’s Grand Armado. I will not name the rebel Blake; He fought for whoreson Cromwell’s sake, And yet was forced three days to take To quell the Dutch bravado. So now we’ve seen them take to flight This way and that, where’er they might, To windward or to leeward; Here’s to King Charles, and here’s to James, And here’s to all the captains’ names, And here’s to all the Suffolk dames, And here’s to the House of Stuart.

Come, all you brave sea-men of courage so free, Come lend your attention and listen to me, For here is good news that is late come to town, Which is for your credit and England’s renown; Of brave Captain Harman ’tis now I must tell, Who near unto Cadiz behav’d himself well, And taught a Dutch captain, whose name is De Wit, To know he had valour and made him submit. The Tiger from Tangier to Cadiz made way, Whereas the De Wit, the Dutch admiral lay, But soon as the Dutchman our frigate espy’d They straight into port with all diligence hi’d, Which caused the Spaniards about for to say, He quitted his station and durst not to stay; Whereat the proud Dutchman did fume and did fret, And wisht in his heart that they never had met. Then taking advise of young Evertson straight, A challenge he sent with the Tiger to fight, To regain his honour if so it might be, The which was accepted immediately. His ship with stout seamen he then double mann’d, And thought that our English was merely trapann’d; But in the conclusion he found it not so, They paid him his reckoning before he did go. Two hundred and seventy men he had there, And but half so many the Tiger did bear Of brave English hearts, and of courage most free, That scorn’d to be dounted in any degree: Then up they did come within half pistol shot, Their broad-sides they fired, and men went to th’ pot, Whilst all the whole town did come out to behold And see them encounter with courage most bold. With broad-sides of bullets and shot that was bar’d We quickly disabled De Wit’s top-mast yard, And fourscore men they had wounded and slain, Which made them to fret, but it was but in vain. ‘We’l bear in upon ... [line and a half missing]; We’l show them such valour as never was shown; I’le take their ship prize, or I’le venture my own.’ Then quickly they grappled, and then the dispute Was desperate and bloody, whilst cannons were mute, For half an hour’s space the hot service was such Our men remain’d victors and conquered the Dutch; And then they submitted themselves to be prize, Which all the brisk Spaniards beheld with their eyes, And our English valour did highly commend, Since Harman had forc’d the proud Dutch for to bend. The prize was so shattered and torn in the fray They scarcely could get her safe into the bay; For to Harman’s honour De Wit must confess He nere was so thumped before, I do guess. ’Twill teach him hereafter more humble to be, To yield to his betters in every degree; By woeful experience he now can relate, What ’tis to sell honour at so dear a rate. Of Dutchmen one hundred and forty was slain, And eighty-six wounded, which languish in pain; Of all our brave English we lost but just nine, And therefore we have no great cause to repine, Besides fifteen wounded, the truth for to tell; All which through God’s mercy we hope will do well. Such blessings the Lord has for England in store We lost not much more then a man to a score. Brave Harman, who fought where the battel was hot, Was struck through the cheek with a chance musket shot, But yet there is hopes he’l recover again And live for to win more renown on the main; However his valour is highly extol’d, ’Mongst our English worthies he shall be enrol’d, Who fought for true honour, glad tydings to bring, How well he had serv’d both his countrey and King. Then cheer up, brave seamen and Englishmen bold You here, by this story, which here I have told, No sea-men nor souldiers can with us compare; Although they have odds yet to fight them we dare. Throughout the whole world a terrour shall prove If we can continue in union and love: And thus you may see by these lines I have writ, How stout Captain Harman did conquer De Wit.

Our goodly ship was loaded deep, with anchors three beneath her bow; ’Twas east-north-east we steer’d our course, and as near the wind as we could stow. We had not sailed glasses three, nor yet ten leagues from our loading port, Before we spyed ten Turkish men-of-war, and after us they did resort. ‘O hail! O hail! you English dogs, O hail! and strike your sails quickly, For you shall go with us this night, and ever after into slavery.’ O then bespoke our captain bold, and a well bespoken man was he, ‘If you must have my topsails down, come on board and strike them for me. ‘To the top, to the top, my merry boatswain, to the main-top-mast-head so high, And sling me here that main-top-mast-yard, and see your business you supply. To the top, to the top, my boatswain’s mate, to the fore-top-mast-head with speed And sling me here that fore-top-sail-yard, for we never had more need. ‘To the top, to the top, my little cabin-boy, to the mizen-top-mast-head so high, And spread abroad St. George’s flag, for under that we live or die.’ O then bespoke our gunner bold, and a well bespoken man was he, ‘Swab your guns, brave boys, while they’re hot, for powder and ball you shall have free.’ ‘Keep aluff, keep aluff;’ says the master’s mate, ‘keep aluff, whilst that you may. We’l fight it out like English boys; it ne’er shall be said we run away.’ So to it we went like lions bold, as enemies do when they meet; We fought from twelve to sun-rising, and spared but one sail of their fleet. O three we burnt, and three we sunk, and the other three run away; And one we brought to old England, to shew them we had won the day. All you that know our gallant ship, and want to know our captain’s name, It is Captain Mansfield of Bristol Town, and the Marygold, a ship of fame.

No pain like the Jayl of Love, nor no such torments found To those that loyal mean to prove, whose loves are firm and sound. This loyal person ne’r would change; like a true lover he Indur’d his fetters and his chains, and Betty’s captive be.

Of a constant young seaman a story I’le tell, That I hope all true lovers will please very well; All his cry was still, ‘Though I continue a slave, Yet the want of my dear is far worse than a grave. ‘All the tedious long night in close prison I lye, But methinks I behold my dear love lying by; In the midst of my pains this doth still give me ease: That is pleasant to me, which some call a disease. ‘Sometimes to the gallies I’m forced to go, Though amongst all my fellows like a slave I do row; And when I am spent with this labour and pain The thoughts of my love doth revive me again. ‘And when with strappadoes sometimes I do meet, I find little pain, if I think on my sweet; Thus ’twixt pleasure and pain my time I do spend, Yet vow to be constant unto my life’s end. ‘No torture nor pain shall make me forsake Nor flye from my reason for my Betty’s sake; I do slight all the torments bestow’d by the Turk When I think on my dear, and in gallies do work. ‘But [tho’] a renegado to make me they strive, I’le never consent to ‘t whilst I am alive, But will a couragious true Protestant be: I’le be true to my faith and be constant to thee. ‘Ah, Betty, when billows do rage and do roar For want of thy sight I am troubled sore: Whilst other are troubled with terror and fear, Yet I am cheer’d up with the thought of my dear. ‘No prison is like to the want of thy sight, Which locks up my bliss, for thou art my delight: Though distant I am, therefore only opprest, Yet still my dear Betty doth lodge in my breast. ‘In the midst of my sorrows, whilst others do mourn, ’Tis the want of my love that doth make me forlorn; Yet [I] would not enjoy thee in this cursed place, Though for want of thy love my tears trickle apace. ‘But be of good cheer, for every one knows ’Tis an ill wind indeed that no comfort blows; And again I do hope thee in England to see, Then who’l be so happy as Betty and me? ‘And now, thorough Providence, I am return’d: By shipwrack I ’scap’d, for our ship it was burn’d; No torment like mine was when I was a slave, For the want of my Betty was worse than a grave.’

Captain Chilver’s gone to sea, I, boys, O boys! With all his company, I! Captain Chilver’s gone to sea, With all his company, In the brave Benjamin, O! Thirty guns this ship did bear, I, boys, O boys! They were bound for Venice fair, I! Thirty guns this ship did bear, And a hundred men so clear, In the brave Benjamin, O! But by ill storms at sea, I, boys, O boys! Which bred our misery, I! But by ill storms at sea Were drove out o’ th’ way In the brave Benjamin, O! We had more wind than we could bear, I, boys, O boys! Our ship it would not steer, I! We had more wind than we could bear, Our masts and sails did tear In the brave Benjamin, O! The first harm that we had, I, boys, O boys! It makes my heart so sad, I! The first harm that we had We lost our fore-mast head: O the poor Benjamin, O! The seas aloud did roar, I, boys, O boys! We being far from shore, I! The sea no favour shows Unto friends nor foes, O the poor Benjamin, O! The next harm that we spy’d, I, boys, O boys! Then we to Heaven cry’d, I! Down fell our main-mast head, Which struck our senses dead In the poor Benjamin, O! Then we with seas were crost, I, boys, O boys! And on the ocean tost, I! Thus we with seas was tost, Many a brave man was lost In the brave Benjamin, O! The next harm that we had, I, boys, O boys! We had cause to be sad, I! The next harm that we had We lost four men from the yard In the poor Benjamin, O! Disabled as I name, I, boys, O boys! We were drove on the main, I! So the next harm we had We lost our rudder’s head In the poor Benjamin, O! Then we fell all to prayer, I, boys, O boys! The Lord our lives would spare, I! Then we fell all to prayer, And He at last did hear Us in the Benjamin, O! Although we sail’d in fear, I, boys, O boys! The Lord our ship did steer, I! Our prayers so fervent were That we had passage clear Into brave Plimouth Sound, O! We came in Plimouth Sound, I, boys, O boys! Our hearts did then resound, I! When we came to Plymouth Sound Our grief with joy was crown’d In the poor Benjamin, O! When we came all on shore, I, boys, O boys! Every man at his dore, I! When we came all on shore Our grief we did deplore In the poor Benjamin, O! You gallant young men all, I, boys, O boys! ’Tis unto you I call, I! Likewise brave seamen all, Lament the loss and fall Of the poor Benjamin, O!

When the Dartmouth friggot lay off the town That’s call’d Porto Rico, of some renown, The captain sent thither to know if he cou’d Come peaceably in for water and wood. They answered we were welcome there, And might venture in without all fear And said it should be their only care Whatever we wanted to prepare. On the governor’s promised honour then We took up the pilot, who carry’d us in. We rid undisturbed and safe all the night, Nor smoak’d any cheat till the morning’s light Discovered their base and d[amned] intent; For when to the wat’ring place we went We were seiz’d and into prison sent; And then we found out what ’twas they meant. Quoth the governor, ‘Now you shall ne’re be free Till I your commissions and orders do see; For your ship is become a forfeiture, And I’le sink her if she but dares to stirr: For here my guns can command you all. If she goes not where I say shee shall I’le batter her sides with my iron ball From every fort and the city wall.’ The council was call’d, and demurely they sate, To manage the business by grave debate: The bald-pated rascals (as if they were full Of politick tricks) did squint and look dull, Yet knew not what to doe in the case; They could hardly look us in the face, Their action was so openly base, And guilt made ’em conscious of their digrace, Till the Don cry’d out to the grey-bearded knaves, ‘We’ve now got a parcel of brawny slaves, With provision enough to furnish the town; For (unless we are fools) the ship is our own: And since they are in, we’ll make ’em sure, Our harbour’s mouth is the prison door. Take my advice, and I will secure They never shall goe to sea any more. ‘And because that the ship is under command, Nor can they the force of our walls withstand, Wee’ll suffer these silly poltroons to go free, For their friggot thereby gets no libertie: But I’le order them to goe where I Will maul ’em with more conveniency, Or where upon the shoals they may ly, And then they may bid their ship good-by.’ The business they had consulted so well, They sent us away, and sent one to tell That if our commander refus’d to obey, And didn’t immediately order to weigh, And further within the harbour sail, For certain then that he would not fail To send some bullets to ferk our t[ail], And those would be words that should prevail. ‘In vain,’ said the captain, ‘you threaten us, sirs, For I value your guns but as barking of currs; Begin when you please, you shall find us to be As brave English hearts as e’re saw the sea. To-morrow I will certainly weigh, And brave all your guns in open day; Maugre whatever you do or say, Your governour’s orders I’le not obey.’ Next day, to decoy us, he cunningly sent A fawning excuse and a complement, And said he would try to dispatch us that day And send us in peace and in safety away; But he had no design in the thing But writing letters unto our King, Which a messenger, he said, should bring Before the sun was near setting. Our top-sails were loose, and the sheats were haul’d home, We waited all day, but no messenger come. We saw on the shoar the friars so gay, And some were in black, but most were in grey; To ev’ry fort and castle they went; But the Lord in heav’n knowes what they meant, Unless (that it might be their intent) To bless e’ry man, gun, and battlement. No sooner the fryars were gone to their home But we heard an alarm beat by the drum, And then a command was sent us agen To furl our top-sails and warp further in; And if we didn’t immediately With what the governour said comply, From all his forts he’d let the guns fly, And batter us most confoundedly. Then straight from the city we plainly could see, The souldiers were marching most hastily, And headed they were by their fat general, To every fort and each castle wall: But we were quite careless all the while, And at their grand folly did only smile, Resolving the Spaniards to beguile And leave ’em without their wish’t-for spoil. By this time the busie old sun was gone down, And candles were lighting about the town; The commander then cheared his men so brave, And the word for cutting the cable gave, Which was done ith’ twinkling of an eye, And the sails were set as suddenly, Which as soon as e’re they could espy A volley of small shott did let fly. The warning when every castle had got, They fired on us (like mad) theire great shott; With louder huzzas we answer’d agen, And shew’d ’em that we were true Englishmen; Thus under sail alongst ’em we past, And till convenient we kept all fast; But halloo’d out, nor were agast, And sent a broadside amongst ’em at last. Thus fireing, and fireing, we held a good space, And gave ’em the go by to their disgrace; Three hours or more continu’d the fight, With fire and smoke, and a very calm night, And tho’ within pistol shott we were, Yet nevertheless we got well clear, Without much hurt or any fear, And to tell you the tale are now come here.

Listen awhile, and I here will unfold what seemeth to promise promotion: There is great plenty of silver and gold now newly took out of the ocean: Forty-three years this treasure has lain since the galion was stav’d asunder Among the scholes and the rocks in the main, yet this may be now the world’s wonder. It being seventeen leagues from the shore, ’tis wonderful if you do mind it, Many has search’d for this treasure before, but none had the fortune to find it Till the brave James and Mary of fame, whom Fortune hath highly befriended, She most successfully sail’d on the main, and was from all dangers defended. She was inform’d where this treasure did lye by some that had gi’en information; Therefore some nobles did freely comply, without any more disputation, To fit her forth; this favour they show, it being their free will and pleasure. With a fair gale to the ocean they go, where they find great plenty of treasure. ’Twas in the midst of September they went forth in the brave James and Mary, All the ship’s crew with a loyal consent, they being both cheerful and airy; And in short time they there did arrive where they was with rocks so surrounded That they did hardly know how to contrive to keep themselves from being drown[d]ed. There they was forced some time for to lose, and lye at an anchor together; As for their engine, they then could not use, because of the turbulent weather; Yet at the last to diving they went, where silver and gold they received; When in the water their breath was near spent they were by their engine relieved. Six weeks together they work’d in the cold, still diving in nine fathom water, Loading their Mary with silver and gold; then up to fair London they brought her, Where they received her with delight, as you may observe by the ditty, And they unloaded her cargo in sight of many brave men of the city. Carts heavy loaden came through the town, on which the whole multitude gazed; This to the seamen hath purchac’d renown, no question but they may be praised: Still far and near their fame let it ring, and let them be highly commended, Since they did venture so hard in this thing, and was with a blessing attended. But here is one thing we must not forget: while they were the treasure possessing, On the great rocks they might soon have been split had not Heaven yielded a blessing; Or while they search’d the depth of the main, to hazards they could be no strangers; Yet men and boys came all safe home again, tho’ they had gone through such dangers.

Stout seamen, come away, never be daunted; For if at home you stay, then is it granted The fleet can never be mann’d for the ocean, To fight the enemy and gain promotion. Lewis, that Christian Turk, makes preparation; His engines are at work in consultation, Thinking to ruin quite all Christian princes; But we their wrongs will right, at life’s expences. The mighty force of France we never value; For when we once advance we will not dally, But on the ocean wide (through blest permission) We’ll soon subdue their pride and grand ambition. Therefore with courage bold, boys, let us venture; Like noble hearts of gold now freely enter Your names on board the fleet, all friends forsaking, That we may soon compleat this undertaking. Is it not that the land might be defended By a victorious hand? tho’ France intended To lay a heavy yoke on a free nation, Boys, let a fatal stroke prove their vexation! But yet methinks I hear some cowards crying, The press they dread and fear as much as dying, And sculk, like frighted slaves, here in distraction, To hide in dens and caves from warlike action. Yet some declare they’d fight, but a dear mother, Who counts him her delight above all other, She loves him as her life; parting would grieve her: Another has a wife, he’s loath to leave her. Thus cowards they can find excuses many To tarry here behind; yet there’s not any Right valiant noble soul heeds a relation, He’ll fight against controul for this his nation. Has not men wish’d and cry’d, ‘A war with France!’ boys, That on the ocean wide we may advance, boys? To storm and shake their throne, no danger fearing: This still has been their tone oft in my hearing. Where are those heroes now, those sons of thunder, That would make Lewis bow and bring him under? Your wishes now you have, France is the center; Like seamen stout and brave, boys, freely venture! In a fight fierce and hot once was I wounded; We receiv’d showrs of shot, being surrounded; Yet I again will go, and scorn to hide me; I’ll face the daring foe, what e’er betide me. He that has been in fight fears not another; He leaves with much delight father and mother, To embrace those true joys which men admire; We can be merry, boys, in smoak and fire. If we the conquest gain, that brings promotion; If we by chance are slain, then the wide ocean Shall be our watry tomb, near Neptune’s palace. This, boys, shall be our doom, in spite of malice.

‘My love, I come to take my leave, yet prithee do not sigh and grieve, On the wide ocean I will fight, for to maintain the nation’s right: Under noble chief commanders I resolve to take my chance; On board I’ll enter, life I’ll venture, to subdue the pride of France.’ ‘My dear,’ said she, ‘be not unkind, I shall no peace nor comfort find; My very heart will break for thee, if thus we must divided be: While thou art with foes surrounded, where the loud-mouth’d cannons roar, This warlike action breeds distraction, I shall never see you more.’ ‘Let no such fear attend my dear, I hope to be as safe as here; For King and country’s good I’ll stand, and vow to fight with heart and hand. None but cowards fear to venture, freely will I take my chance; On board I’ll enter, life I’ll venture, to subdue the pride of France.’ The youthful damsel then did cry, ‘I’ll part with gold and silver too, Another person to employ, that may be better spared than you. Never shall I be contented while you leave your native shore This warlike action breeds distraction, I shall never see you more.’ ‘My dear, all hazards will I run, methinks the work cannot be done Except I do in person go to face that perjur’d potent foe: We have warlike sons of thunder, which will valiantly advance To the wide ocean for promotion and to check the pride of France. ‘My dear, the royal English fleet, with the Dutch navy, will compleate The work which fairly is begun: we fear not but Monsieur will run; For we’ll drive the rogues before us, teach them such an English dance: While they retire, still we’ll fire, check the growing pride of France.’ With sighs and tears this damsel said, ‘If you resolve to go to sea, In sailor’s robes I’ll be array’d and freely go along with thee; Life and fortune I will venture rather than to stay on shore: Grief will oppress me, and possess me, that I ne’er shall see thee more.’ Said he, ‘My dearest, stay on land, such idle fancies ne’er pursue; Thy soft and tender milk-white hand [a]seaman’s labour cannot do: Here I leave both gold and treasure to maintain my dear on shore.’ But still she crying, and replying, ‘I shall never see thee more!’ ‘Thy gold’s no more than dross to me, alas! my heart is sunk full low, The want of thy sweet company will surely prove my overthrow: Therefore, dearest, do not leave me, here tormented on the shore; Let us not sever, love, for ever, lest I ne’er shall see thee more!’ Tho’ bitterly she did complain, her sighs and tears were all in vain; He would not suffer her to go, so many cares and griefs to know: But with sweet salutes they parted; she was left with tears on shore; Here often crying, and replying, ‘I shall never see him more!’

This man was prest to serve upon the seas, Which did his dearest very much displease; She importuned the captain on her knee, And proffered gold to have her love set free; But all would not prevail; the captain’s ear Was deaf, the maid’s complaint he would not hear. When no entreaty could move his hard heart She sadly took her leave, and so they part.

Come, all loyal lovers that’s faithful and true, Observe, where ever you be, A pattern I here have presented to you: It is good to be constant, you see. But chiefly to thee, my own dearest, I speak, With patience my absence to bear, For now I am prest to serve on the seas, And I must bid adieu to my dear. Our King must have seamen and souldiers most stout, His enemies’ heart for to fear, And I for my honour will venture about, And I must bid adieu to my dear. Maid. O tell me not so, mine own dearest, I pray; For love’s sake take pitty on me; I’le do my endeavour to please thee alway If that I may have my love free. ’Tis far better staying with me on the shore, Where pleasures and joys do abound, Than for [you] to venture where cannons do roar, In the depth of the seas to be drown’d. O be not so cruel, my love, for to fight, But tarry, my dearest, with me; We’l find out a way in Love’s war for to fight, And I’le strive for to set my love free. Man. All that thou canst do, my love, will not procure My freedom, I sorely do fear; But I must the hardship of service endure, And I must bid adieu to my dear. My captain by no means will let me go free, He likes me so well, I do hear; Therefore it’s in vain to beg my liberty, For I must bid adieu to my dear. Maid. I’le go to thy captain and fall on my knee; Perhaps he’l take pitty on me; If five pounds or ten pounds will buy thy discharge He shall have it to set my love free. The Captain’s Answer. Not ten pounds nor twenty will buy his discharge, Fair maid, you must patiently bear; He shall go to sea for his King to ingage, And he must bid adieu to his dear. I’le have him to serve me upon the salt main, In battel with foes for to fight; Then cease, pritty maiden, and do not complain, For the wars is a souldier’s delight. Maid. Behold, noble captain, the sorrowful tears, That down my cheeks trickle amain, To move your hard heart to release me of fear And to grant me my love once again. No maiden’s heart ever was so full of woe, Then, good sir, take pitty on me; And let him no further into the wars go, But be pleased to set my love free. Captain. O cease thy suit, damsel, and be not so sad, Let reason thy mind now aswage; Ten thousand such seamen must e’re long be had, All against the proud foes to engage. Man. My dearest, why dost thou the captain offend? Thou seest he by no means will yield; And I am resolved my blood for to spend Upon the salt sea or in field. Therefore be contented, and cease thy sad moan, Take comfort, and do thou not fear; If fortune befriend me, when as I am gone, I shall once again see mine own dear. Maid. My dearest, since thou must be parted from me, And here must no longer remain, The thought of thy love all my comfort shall be Until I do see thee again. Each hour for thy welfare to God will I pray, That He will in safety preserve My own dearest lover by night and by day Whilst he on the ocean doth serve. This token, I prethee, love, for my sake keep, Remember me when you it wear; This parting kiss take, which doth cause me to weep, And so heavens bless mine own dear. Man. Adieu, my dear jewel: thy love I have found; Our parting doth grieve me full sore. The drums they do beat, and the trumpets do sound, And I must stay no longer on shore.

Of late near the Strand, we well understand, Six lasses that took a brisk frollick in hand; ’Twas thus, I profess, they in seaman’s dress, Not far from the May-pole, resolved to press Fourteen taylors. Young Nancy she ty’d a sword by her side, And she was resolved for to be their guide: This young female crew, Kate, Bridget, and Prue, And she that went formost was Lieutenant Sue, Pressing taylors. These maids by consent, their minds fully bent, First thro’ the back side of St. Clements they went, Where just in the street they a taylor did meet; They prest him, and streight he fell down at their feet: ‘I’m a taylor. ‘I tell you,’ said he, ‘I ne’er was at sea, And therefore, kind gentlemen, pray set me free, And pity these tears; I have liv’d forty years, And never us’d weapon but bodkin and shears. I’m a taylor.’ But Susan and they strait haul’d him away, While Tom, the poor taylor, did sigh, beg, and pray; Yet all was in vain, for they did him retain, And told him that now he must fight on the main, Tho’ a taylor. Then to White Hart Yard they went with regard, And there a poor taylor was labouring hard Upon his shop-board. Nan drew out her sword, Saying he must King William his service afford, Tho’ a taylor. The taylor did quake—nay, quiver and shake. At length with a pitiful voice he did spake, While tears down did run; he cry’d, ‘I’m undone. I never did know the right end of a gun; I’m a taylor.’ Then stout Boston Bess said, ‘Nevertheless You must go with us, we’ve a warrant to press; Then wave this excuse, and lay by your goose; Such nimble young fellows may be of great use, Tho’ only a taylor.’ And then, by report, they went to Round Court, Where seven young taylors were making of sp[ort], Their hearts void of care, who when they come the[re], These maids did catch napping, as Moss catch’d [his] ma[re], Seven taylors. They thought to resist, but Joan with her fist, She thumpt them about till the taylors they pi[ ], And then in a rage the rest did engage, And brought them away to the round-house or ca[ge], These poor taylors. With all might and main down to Dutchy Lane These petticoat press-masters hurried again, To press some they knew: ’twas Morgan and Hu[gh], A couple belong’d to the cross-legged crew, And Welsh taylors. Then Morgan hur railes, crys, ‘Splutter-a-nails, Hur newly come up to fair London from Wales; Then pray cease your strife, hur has a young wife, Besides hur was never yet kill’d in hur life.’ A Welsh taylor. But yet, right or wrong, they brought ’em along, And happen’d to meet with three more in the thro[ng]. Then said lusty Jane, ‘You must serve King and Que[en]!’ And thus these stout females did press full fourte[en], And all taylors.

Now, noble brave boys, let the sweet trumpet sound, While seamen with trophies of honour are crown’d; For gracious King William they’ll fight till they dye, And scorn from the face of a Tory to flye. Sir brave Cloudesly Shovell sail’d to Dublin Bay, And brought the brave Pellican frigat away. Bold James and his Teagues they did stand and behold Our noble commander, couragious and bold, Who ventur’d just close to the banks of their shore And laid the proud enemy sprawling in gore: With fire and sword, boys, we enter’d the bay, And brought the brave Pellican frigat away. Our noble commander first enter’d aboard, On the Monmouth yacht; this did courage afford To all the brave sailors of Protestant pride, Who vow’d they wou’d venture to dye by his side; Then crossing the bar they enter’d the bay, And brought the brave Pellican frigat away. The Tory commander did fire amain, While we did salute him with bullets again, Till twenty or more of his rebells were kill’d. Now when he our valour and courage beheld, He straight cut his cable to flye from the fray, But we brought the brave Pellican frigat away. The Protestants’ goods they were sending for France; By us they were stopt—ay, and taken by chance, Which made the poor French-men to swear, fret, and frown, To see our brave seamen of fame and renown, With what resolution our guns they did play, When we brought the brave Pellican frigat away. The Tories came down with their foot and their horse, And with their old master lamented his loss; And into the water a party did ride, Discharging their pistols against our ship’s side; But like men of courage our guns we did play, And brought the brave Pellican frigat away. ‘You damn’d English dogs,’ one proud Monsieur did cry, But straight at his horse we a bullet let flye; He was in a rage to find such salutes, That straight he was forc’d to shake off his jack-boots; Then after the rebels our guns we did play, And brought the brave Pellican frigat away. But here is one thing that is worthy of note: Two Protestant boys they did wade to our boat; We straight took them in, and their lives we did save: An account of the fears of the rebels they gave. Our streamers we spread, and our flags did display, And brought the brave Pellican frigat away. This is but a rellish and taste of their doom; Brave boys, we will down with the bullworks of Rome. The rebels in France they may put their whole trust, While we all their glory lay low in the dust. With fire and sword, boys, we’l enter the fray King William’s great army shall carry the day.

Here’s joyfull news came late from sea; ’Tis of a gallant victory Which o’er the French we did obtain Upon the throbbing ocean main. As soon as e’er they found our rage The rogues was glad to disengage. The French fleet sailing from Thoulon, As we by letters understand, To join with those that lay at Brest, As some of them have since confest; But our brave fleet with them did meet, And made the Frenchmen soon retreat. Five ships, with others, did advance, Being the very pride of France: The Lewis, Dauphin, and the Sun, With others which were forced to run. As by this ditty you shall hear, Brave English boys, the coast did clear. The French at first did brag and boast, But we so wisely rul’d the roast, Under our Admiral Killegrew, That we engag’d and beat them too, Declaring that we did not fear The haughty rage of proud Monsieur. Our admiral bore up amain, Resolving that he would maintain A sharp and bloudy fight with those Who dare King William’s crown oppose: Then broad-sides streight began to roar, Which laid the French in reeking gore. Right valiant seamen, fierce and bold, Couragious noble hearts of gold, All with a resolution bent, Whole showers of shot to them they sent, By which the French in hundreds fell: Our guns did ring their passing-bell. We pour’d our shot on e’ery side, ‘’Tis bravely done,’ the captain cry’d. ‘Though sharp and bloudy be the fray, The French are beat; we have the day. True English boys, ’twas bravely done; See how the Frenchmen run, they run.’ Now while we did maintain the fight Two French ships there we sunk downright, And likewise have we taken three. This crown’d our work with victory; The noble, valiant Killegrew After the rest do’s still pursue. The French-men they did [soon] retreat; They were a shatter’d, torn fleet. But if he shall them overtake A prize of all the rest he’ll make; Couragious boys are sail’d with him, Who freely ventures life and limb Under the admiral’s command, For to defend the native land. May Heaven prosper still and bless Our valiant soldiers’ good success, That we hereafter may advance, To shake the very crown of France.

I sing not the battle (so fam’d) of Lepanto, Nor what the Turks got by the siege of Otranto, Nor the Spanish Armada so brave and gallanto, Which nobody can deny. Nor how they were bang’d by invincible Drake, Nor the courage and conduct of excellent Blake, Nor of men that fought bravely when all was at stake, Which nobody can deny. But a sort of sea-fight ’tween the French and Hollander, Where th’ English had joyn’d, but that their commander- In-chief wou’d not be a with- but a by-stander, Which nobody can deny. The Dutch to the enemy boldly drew near, But th’ admiral o’th English more wisely did steer, For he thought it was safer to keep in the rear, Which nobody can deny. Grafton (’twas said) came courageously in, And by mauling the French great honour did win, But Torr’ was resolv’d to sleep in a whole skin, Which nobody can deny. Had each ship and its captain but been independant, They’d certainly made a [more] glorious end on’t, Then commanded by such a stout superintendant, Which nobody can deny. Tyrrel and Dorrel did boldly stand to ’em (Thinking to beat the French and to undo ’em), But th’ Admiral only came thither to view ’em, Which nobody can deny. And tho’ the French fleet was so little esteem’d, And their courage and conduct despisable deem’d, To wise Herbert they plainly invincible seem’d, Which nobody can deny. Some ships too fool-hardy did headlong engage, Which put the stout admiral in such a rage, That nought but a whore could passion asswage, Which nobody can deny. When the shot from the enemy flying at random Slew the stout hero’s dog, that could no way withstand ’em, His bitches desired their master to land ’em, Which nobody can deny. ’Twould make a man, much more a woman, agast, sir, To see a dog kill’d ’twixt the leggs of his master, Who much more deserv’d such a dismal disaster, Which nobody can deny. Some say that he wanted both powder and ball. Be that true or false, it was certainly all One to him, whose courage was so very small, Which nobody can deny. The Dutch at the enemy bravely did fire all, Tho’ Arthur commanded the fleet to retire all, For which if he be’nt hang’d we much shou’d admire all, Which nobody can deny. Tho’ the French for a time may bluster and boast Of the honour they won by Torrington lost, Their courage will cool when our fleet’s on their coast, Which nobody can deny. Not one town of theirs, nor two, three, nor four Shall appease for the pranks they play’d on our shoar; We have admirals now that will pay off the score, Which nobody can deny.

A mighty great fleet, the like was ne’re seen Since the reign of King William and Mary his Queen, Design’d the destruction of France to have been: Which nobody can deny. This fleet was compos’d of English and Dutch, For ships, guns, and men there was never seen such; Nor so little done, when expected so much: Which nobody can deny. Eighty-six ships of war, which we capitall call, Besides frigats and tenders, and yachts that are small, Sayl’d out, and did little or nothing at all: Which nobody can deny. Thirty-nine thousand and five hundred brave men, Had they chanc’d to have met the French fleet, O then, As they beat ’em last year, they’d have beat ’em agen: Which nobody can deny. Six thousand great guns, and seventy-eight more, As great and as good as ever did roar; It had been the same thing had they left ’em ashore Which nobody can deny. Torrington now must command ’em no more, For we try’d what mettal he was made on before, And ’tis better for him on land for to whore, Which nobody can deny. For a bullet, perhaps, from a rude cannon’s breach, Which makes no distinction betwixt poor and rich, Instead of his dog might have ta’ne off his bitch, Which nobody can deny. But Russell, the cherry-cheekt Russell, is chose His fine self and his fleet at sea to expose; But he will take care how he meets with his foes, Which nobody can deny. For there was a lady he left on land, To whom he had promised his heart and his hand, Though in her youth she was otherwise mann’d, Which nobody can deny. And why plump Russell who need never beg, To move our compassion, goe venture a leg, And break the heart of the good Lady Peg, Which nobody can deny. We had sea-collonells o’ th’ nature of otter, Which either might serve by land or by water, Tho’ of what they have done we hear no great matter, Which nobody can deny. In the month of May last they sailed on the main, And now in September are come back again, With the loss of some ships, but in battle none slain, Which nobody can deny.

You gentlemen of England fair, Who live at home free from all care, Little do you think or know What we poor sailors undergo: We whine and toil upon the waves, We work like Turks or galley slaves. ’Twas on November the second day When first our admiral bore away; Intending for his native shore, The wind at west-south-west did roar, Attended by a dismal sky, And the seas did run full mountains high. The very first land that we did make, It chanc’d to be the old Ram’s Head, Which made us all rejoice around To see our flag-stem in Plymouth Sound, Stretching well over for Fishes Nose, Thinking to fetch up in [H]amose. The tide of ebb not being done, She set strong to the westward run, Which put us all in dread and fear, To see our ships, they would not wear, The wind and weather increased sore, And drove nine sail of ships on shore. When we came to Northumberland Rock, The Lyon, Lynx, and Antelope, The Loyalty, and Eagle too, The Elizabeth made all to rue: She ran astern, and the line broke, And sunk the Hardwick at first stroke. Now you shall hear the worst of all: The largest ship had the greatest fall; The great Coronation, and all her men, Were all drown’d except nineteen; The master’s mate, and eighteen more, Got in their long boat safe on shore. As to our ships, we value not, Had it not fallen to our sailor’s lot; The greatest loss is to their wives In losing of their husbands’ lives; And to Old England it may be more Than nine sail of ships on shore.

To God alone let us all glory give, By whose permission we poor mortals live, And tho’ our enemies may swell with pride He soon can compass them on every side. King William is the glorious instrument, Which by the providence of God was sent To save our drooping laws and liberty From French and Popish cruel tyranny. When in dark gloomy cells the plot was laid This free-born land and nation to invade, Bold Brittain sail’d forthwith her royal fleet, Which did the daring enemy defeat. Renowned Russell let them understand That, for the honour of his native land, Thro’ smoke and flame he could with courage go To face proud Lewis, that insulting foe. No fear nor favour could his actions sway, Nor could he in the least be drawn away From acting like a noble hero bold, For all the promised gifts of cursed gold. [The] valiant Ashby let them feel his rage, While death he rid in triumph o’er the stage Of the French navy on the ocean main, And English boys did victory obtain. The spirits of the French began to faint, So that they pray’d to ev’ry Popish saint To help them in a time of sad distress; Yet they were burnt and beaten ne’ertheless. Admiral Carter fought them through and through, The like of him before they never knew; His chain-shot did their ships in pieces tear, As if great Jove with thunder had been there. Brave Delavall met with the Rising Sun Of France, who to the shore for shelter run With many more, which in a stately flame He soon did set, our glory to proclaim. Sir Cloudsly Shovel, with a valiant heart, In this most glorious conquest bore a part; His roaring cannons sunk them in the main, From whence they never can return again. The force of France he ne’er was known to fear, But, like a stout commander, vow’d to clear The seas of French, or they should make his grave And monument in a rough roaring wave. The next was Rook, that brave, heroick soul, Who none alive could ever yet controul; A dozen men-of-war of France he burn’d, Who e’er next day was all to ashes turn’d. The French was follow’d to their very shore, Pursu’d with guns, which did like thunder roar: Such admirals before was never known; They scar’d old Lewis—nay, and shook his throne. Nor were the valiant Dutch-men far behind: They on the ocean bear a noble mind; True sons of thunder, that will not retreat Until they see their foes destroyed and beat. Tho’ they had once been wounded on the main, Like soldiers, they resolved to bleed again, Or bring the proud insulting tyrant low, Who strives to seek all Europe’s overthrow. Those valiant souls let all good men commend; Their lives they ventur’d freely to defend Religion, laws, and likewise liberty: ’Tis better dye than live in slavery. But God above, I hope, will ever bless Our arms by sea and land with good success, That victories may constantly increase Till war is swallow’d in a glorious peace. Now for King William let all subjects pray, That God would guard his person night and day; From all false friends, and likewise open foes, Let angels guard him wheresoe’er he goes.

Valiant Protestant boys, Here’s millions of joys And triumph now bro ... ught from the ocean; For the French mighty fleet Now is shatter’d and beat, And destruction, destruction, boys, will be their portion. Here’s the Jacobite crew— Now believe me, ’tis true— Invited the Fre ... nch to this nation; Who was crossing the seas, With the Teague Rapparees, True cut-throats, true cut-throats, upon my salvation. But, alas! they did find A true Protestant wind, Which five weeks or lon ... ger it lasted, Till the most royal fleet, And the Dutch both compleat, They with thunder, with thunder this project soon blasted. On the nineteenth of May The French fleet made way, To make of our cou ... rage a tryal; They suppos’d we’d ne’er fight, But they were’nt in the right, For we show’d them, we show’d them we were true and loyal. Our admirals bold, With their brave hearts of gold, They fell on like bra ... ve sons of thunder; And their chain-shot let fly, As the fleet they drew nigh, Where they tore them, and rent them, and tore them asunder. Our squadron, true blew, Fought their way through and through; At length in Lobs’ Po ... und, boys, we got ’um, Where we gave the proud French Such a fiery drench That we sent them, we sent them straight down to the bottom. Such a slaughter we made, While the loud cannons play’d, Which laid the poor Mo ... nsieurs a-bleeding; Nay, their chief admiral We did bitterly maul, And have taught him, I hope, better breeding. Our brave admiral Being stout Dellaval, Whose actions all m ... en may admire; For the French Rising Sun Was not able to run, Which with seven, with seven more ships did he fire. Valiant Rook sail’d straightway Where a French squadron lay Close amongst the ro ... cks then for shelter; But we fell on galore, And we fir’d twelve more; Thus we fir’d and burn’d the French fleet helter-skelter. Being sunk, took, and burn’d, There’s not many return’d, Was this not a wo ... full disaster? How they far’d on our coast Let ’em sail home and boast To old Lewis, old Lewis, their fistula-master. When he hears how they sped It will strike him near dead, Losing what he lo ... ng has been getting; But we’ll have him to know That we’ll still keep him low: He shall never, shall never, boys, conquer Great Britain.

Thursday in the morn, the Ides of May, Recorded be for ever the famous ninety-two. Brave Russel did discern by dawn of day The lofty sails of France advancing now. ‘All hands aloft, aloft; let English valour shine. Let fly a culvering, the signal of the line; Let ev’ry hand supply his gun. Follow me, and you’ll see That the battle will be soon begun.’ Tourville o’er the main triumphant rowl’d To meet the gallant Russel in combat on the deep; He led the noble train of heroes bold To sink the English admiral at his feet. Now every valiant mind to victory does aspire; The bloody fight’s begun, the sea itself on fire, And mighty Fate stood looking on Whilst a flood all of blood Fill’d the port-holes of the Royal Sun. Sulpher, smoak, and fire disturbed the air, With thunder and wonder to fright the Gallick shore; Their regulated bands stood trembling near To see their lofty streamers now no more. At six a clock the Red the smiling victor led, To give a second blow, their total overthrow. Now death and horror equal reign; Now they cry, tun, or dye! Brittish colours ride the vanquish’d main. See they run amaz’d thro’ rocks on sands: One danger they grasp at, to shun a greater fate. In vain they crie for aid to weeping lands; The nimphs and sea gods mourn their lost estate. For ever more adieu, thou dazling Royal Sun; From thy untimely end thy master’s fate begun: Enough, thou mighty god of war. Now we sing, ‘God bless the King, Let us drink to ev’ry English tar.’ Come, jolly seamen, all with Russel go To sail on the main, proud Monsieur for to greet And give our enemy a second blow, And fight Tourville if that he dare to meet. Come, brother tar, what cheer? Let each [his gun] supply, And thump ’em off this year, or make Mounsie[u]r to fly While we do range the ocean round. Day or night we will fight When our enemy is to be found. Let it ne’er be said that English boys Should e’er stay behind when their admiral goes; But let each honest lad crie with one voice, ‘Brave Russel, lead us on to fight the foes.’ We’ll give them gun for gun, some sink and other burn. Broad-sides we’ll give ’em too, till Monsieur crys, ‘Morblew! Des Engleteer vill kill us all.’ Whilst they scower we will pour Thick as hail amongst them cannon-ball.