SONGS AND BALLADS (continued 5)

Our boatswain calls out for his bold British heroes; Come, listen awhile to what I do sing; Let every man toss off his full bumper And drink a good health unto George our King, And drink a good health to Suke, Moll, and Kitty; With mirth and good liquor we’ll lead merry [lives]; We will not be afraid to kiss, or to venture, On Saturday night, to our sweethearts and wives. Our ship she is in harbour, brought safe to an anchor; The boats are alongside, they begin for to throng; The girls that are in them, they are crying for husbands; The one sings out ‘Jemmy,’ the other [calls] ‘John,’ Whilst the other bawls out, ‘Where is my dear Harry? [If] I do not see him, may I never thrive!’ Alongside of those girls you may lie, but not marry, On Saturday night, to our sweethearts and wives. Our ship she is unrigged, all ready for docking; Straightway on board of those hulks we repair, Where we work hard all day, and at night go a-kissing. Jack Tar is safe moor’d in the arms of his dear. Straightway to the town of Venus we will venture Our spirits to freshen, our bodies to thrive; We will not be afraid to kiss, nor yet venture On Saturday night to our sweethearts and wives. Our ship she is all rigg’d and ready for sea, boys; The girls that’s on board they begin to look blue; The boats are alongside to take them on shore, boys; Says one to the other, ‘Girls, what shall we do?’ Then we put to sea, with a fresh-blowing breeze, boys, And through the foaming white billows do [roar]; We paid off all debts with the flying fore-topsail. Bid adieu to these girls and the rogues on the shore. Now we are on the seas, like bold hearts of thunder; Now we are on the seas we will rant and roar; We will make all the French and the Spaniards knock under When our two-and-thirties begin for to roar. For to handle their dollars my fingers are itching; If I don’t be at them may I never thrive; We will not be like misers, to hoard by our riches, But we will spend them on shore with our sweethearts and wives.

Come, all ye young fellows, attend to my song; It will make you to smile, tho’ tis not very long. I will tell you the truth, how I first went to sea, And what there befel, if you’ll listen to me: My story will please you, if right understood, And you surely will laugh at poor Robin Hood. ’Twas late from the smoke of the chimney I came On board of a guard-ship, the Royal Billy by name, Where the first thing I heard when I came alongside, ‘Here’s a grasshopper coming,’ a hoarse fellow cry’d. The windows were crowded, I thought, by the rood, They’d have laughed till they cry’d at poor Robin Hood. I crawl’d up the side till I came to the top, When a fellow came to me, catch’d hold of my frock. He ask’d me to step to his house down below. Much kindness unto me I thought he did show; But soon to my cost all his kindness was prov’d, And I curst all such friendship for poor Robin Hood, His house on the one side was made of a sack, On the other a blanket near the colour of black. No sooner this place I did enter in Than another sings out, ‘Damme, Jack, dowse the glim!’ They rifled my pockets of all that was good, Then tore off my frock, so left poor Robin Hood. Then to an old fellow I did straightway repair, To ask him the place where the constables were. Up two pair of stairs with him I stept quick, When he shewed me a man with a whistle and stick. I told him my story, but that was no good, For he told me I ly’d, and left poor Robin Hood. I sat down on the deck to bemoan for a while, When a woman came to me, and began for to smile. She ask’d me my name, which soon I did tell, Also the disaster that had me befel. The best of ill language at them she did fling, Then ask’d me below, to accept of some gin. Then with her I consented directly to go, And straightway together we went down below, Where she call’d for a bottle of old English gin. I blest my good stars with such friend to fall in: But, to my vexation, I soon understood There was no one to pay it but poor Robin Hood. My shirt they stript off, the gin for to pay; My hat and my shoes both went the same way. I bawled out, ‘Murder!’ But that was their fun. I up a long ladder was forced to run To the officers then, in a terrible mood, Who all bursted with laughter at poor Robin Hood. They sent for a man who’d the look of a prig, And he took me away for the purser to rig. A huge pair of breeches he gave me, ’tis true, That reach’d from the top of my rump to my shoe. A coat he next gave me, too short by a rood; ’Twould not cover the backside of poor Robin Hood. The next thing I met was a man with a stick, Who bawl’d out, ‘All hands!’ and then gave me a lick. ‘You lubberly rascal! ’Tis what brought you here! Scud quick, or I’ll make you, and hoist up the beer.’ I gave him a look, which he well understood, For he bang’d me till tired, and so left Robin Hood. No sooner had we done hoisting of beer, To a place call’d the galley I did straightway repair. Such a racket and uproar, and hell of a rout, Scaldings here, scaldings there. I was glad to creep out. You could not have thought they behaved so rude, For they scalded the shins of poor Robin Hood. I next down below to my dinner was brought, To eat peas with my messmates like pigs in a trough; But as for the pork, I thought not amiss While one turn’d his back, crying, ‘Who shall have this?’ I thought it was fair, but I soon understood The smallest of all fell to poor Robin Hood. Then a man came unto me with a stick in his hand; The boatswain he was call’d, if I right understand. A bucket of grease in my fist he gave fast; He told me to jump up and grease down the mast. I scamper’d away then as fast as I could, But he brought me up standing, ah! poor Robin Hood! Two ruffians he ordered to strap me amain. I wish’d myself back with my Jenny again. My blood it did boil; I was forc’d to obey: But I show’d them a specimen of West Country play. Down the hatchway I bundled one rascal so lewd, But they seiz’d me behind, ah! poor Robin Hood! When peace is concluded—’twill soon be the news— I shall see these rapscallions a-blacking of shoes. With my cudgel of oak I will learn them to skip, And make them remember on board the guard-ship. My song it is ended. If right understood, ’Twas from Sussex I came, and my name’s Robin Hood.

Ye bold British tars, who to glory are free, Who dare venture your lives for your fortunes at sea, Yourself for a while of your pleasures disrobe, And attend to a tale of a voyage round the globe, For the Dolphin’s return’d, and such tidings does bring As may welcome us home to our country and king. The twenty’th of August, the year sixty-six, By command of our captain the signal we fix; In the Sound of old Plymouth our ship we unmoor’d With our consort the Swallow, and transport well stor’d; But now we’re return’d, and such tidings we bring [As may welcome us home to our country and king]. The wind being far the next day we set sail, Blest at once with a fresh and prosperous gale; And straightway our course for Madeira we steer’d. No danger we saw, and no hardship we fear’d; For we sail’d round the world such tidings to bring As might welcome us home to our country and king. We touch’d at Madeira, St. Jago likewise, For the sake of fresh water and other supplies; But at neither of these could we make any stay, For the course of our voyage would admit no delay. We were bound round the world such tidings to bring As might welcome us home to our country and king. When Magellan’s Straits we first enter’d we found Such giants of men that in all the world round None with them could compare or for size or for height, For the smallest of these were from six feet to eight. Yet these are but trifles of tidings to bring; We’ve a present more worthy our country and king. In Port Famine we anchor’d, and took in our store Of both water and wood, for it yielded no more. Discharging our store ship, our anchors we weigh’d, And we work’d through the Straits; no time we delay’d; But now are return’d, and such tidings we bring As may welcome us home to our country and king. A tedious long passage it was for to go, With our consort so dull that we took her in tow, But on April the 12th we got clear of the Straits; Tho’ the Swallow, we fear, a [much] longer time waits, Yet we are return’d, and such tidings we bring As may welcome us home to our country and king. Then we plow’d the South Ocean, such [land] to discover As amongst other nations has made such a pother. We found it, my boys, and with joy be it told, For beauty such islands you ne’er did behold. We’ve the pleasure ourselves the tidings to bring As may welcome us home to our country and king. For wood, water, fruit, and provision well stor’d Such an isle as King George’s the world can’t afford, For to each of these islands great Wallis gave name, Which will e’er be recorded in annals of fame. We’d the fortune to find them, and homeward to bring The tidings a tribute to country and king.

Come, all you brave seamen and landsmen likewise, That have got an inclination your fortunes to rise, That have got an inclination to fight the proud Bostonians, And soon we’ll let you know that we are the sons of Britain. Fal lal, etc. As for the brags of Washington, that never can be; There is Carlton and Clinton have shewn their bravery; There is Darby and Rodney, commanders of the ocean, And many a brave fellow is waiting for promotion. And if we meet a privateer, or a lofty man of war, We never stand to wrangle, to jangle, or to jar; We give them a broadside, and say, ‘My lads, take care, O, And keep your proper distance from an English man-of-war, O.’ And if they will not fight us, but from us run away, All with our heavy chain-shot we’ll cut their masts away, And if they will not yield to us, nor unto us surrender, We’ll split their ship in pieces and to the bottom send her. As for the brags of Washington, we care not a pin; We will fire at his breastworks and make him let us in; Our bomb-shells and cannons shall roar like mighty thunder, And by our constant firing we will make them to surrender. And when the wars are over, if fortune saves our lives, We will bring great store of riches to our sweethearts and our wives, And drink a health unto the lad that has a heart to enter; That man can never gain a prize that is afraid to venture.

Good people of Old England, come, listen unto me, All you who live at home at ease, and from all dangers free, What I’m a-going to mention, and to you shall declare, Concerning part of our fleet as they a-cruising were. It is of a late action, as for a truth we hear, As part of our British fleet for Charles Town they did steer; As we the river sailed along the provincials they begun; The Bristol, most unfortunate, she on the bar did run. Then from the town and batteries they fired on us amain With red-hot shot all from the shore, on board of us they came; And seeing us lie on the bar, their intentions was so, Our gallant ship for to blow up and prove our overthrow. But thro’ God’s Providence so great prevented their desire, Tho’ with their shot, that came so hot, they set us twice on fire; But soon we out the flames did put, our gallant seamen brave They did their best endeavours their precious lives to save. The gallant Bristol well behaved, tho’ she was in distress, And all the ships in company kept firing in excess. Our cannons briskly we dis[charged], our shot like hail did pour, Amongst the blacks and Indians so numerous on the shore. We drove them from their batteries, and made them to retreat, Likewise the town soon shattered with our gallant fleet; We gave them a warm reception, and that they knew so well, Because against Old England great they strongly did rebel. We engaged many hours, for the best part of the day; Our brave commander he was kill’d all in the bloody fray; Two hundred more brave men were kill’d, th’ engagement prov’d so sore, Upon the decks, poor souls, they lay, all in their purple gore. Now to conclude and make an end, Lord, send it was all o’er, In love and unity to live as we have done before; Success unto all Britons bold, that’s both by land or sea, Who now is venturing their lives in North America.

My lords, with your leave An account will I give That deserves to be written in metre: For the rebels and I Have been pretty nigh— Faith, almost too much for Sir Peter. With much labour and toil Unto Sullivan’s Isle I came, firm as Falstaff or Pistol, But the Yankees (’od rot ’em, I could not get at ’em) Most terribly maul’d my poor Bristol. Bold Clinton by land Did quietly stand While I made a thundering clatter; But the channel was deep, So he only could peep And not venture over the water. De’el take ’em; their shot Came so swift and so hot, And the cowardly dogs stood so stiff, sirs, That I put ship about, And was glad to get out, Or they would not have left me a skiff, sirs. Now bold as a Turk I proceed to New York, Where with Clinton and Howe you may find me. I’ve the wind in my tail, And am hoisting my sail, To leave Sullivan’s Island behind me. But, my lords, do not fear, For before the next year, Although a small island could fret us, The continent whole We shall take, by my soul, If the cowardly Yankees will let us.

Behold, upon the swelling wave, with streaming pendants gay, Our gallant ship invites the brave, while glory leads the way. And a-cruising we will go, oho! oho! oho! A-cruising we will go, oho! and a-cruising we will go! Ye beauteous maids, your smiles bestow; for if you prove unkind How can we hope to beat the foe? We leave our hearts behind. When a-cruising we shall go, oho! oho! oho! etc. See Keppel’s flag once more display’d; upon the deck he stands; Old England’s glory ne’er can fade or tarnish in his hands. So a-cruising we will go, etc. Be England to herself but true, to France defiance hurl’d, Give peace, America, with you, and war with all the world. And a-cruising we will go, etc.

Come, all ye jolly sailors bold, Whose hearts are cast in honour’s mould, While British glory I unfold Huzza to the Arethusa! She is a frigate tight and brave As ever stemm’d the dashing wave: Her men are staunch To their fav’rite launch; And when the foe shall meet our fire, Sooner than strike we’ll all expire On board of the Arethusa. ’Twas with the spring fleet she went out, The English Channel to cruize about, When four French sail, in show so stout, Bore down on the Arethusa. The fam’d Belle Poule straight ahead did lie: The Arethusa seem’d to fly; Not a sheet nor a tack Or a brace did she slack, Tho’ the Frenchmen laugh’d, and thought it stuff, But they knew not the handful of men how tough On board of the Arethusa. On deck five hundred men did dance, The stoutest they could find in France; We with two hundred did advance, On board of the Arethusa. Our captain hail’d the Frenchman, ‘Ho!’ The Frenchman then cried out, ‘Hallo!’ ‘Bear down; d’ye see? To our admiral’s lee.’ ‘No, no,’ says the Frenchman, ‘that can’t be.’ ‘Then I must lug you along with me,’ Says the saucy Arethusa. The fight was off the Frenchman’s land. We forc’d them back upon the strand; For we fought till not a stick would stand Of the gallant Arethusa. And, now we have driven the foe ashore, Never to fight with Britons more, Let each fill a glass To his favourite lass; A health to the captain and officers true And all that belong to the jovial crew On board of the Arethusa.

On board the noble Ann, 27th. of March, from Shields to Greenland we set sail, The wind it blowing fair with a sweet and pleasant gale. We had not sailed many days when Fair Isle we did see, But on the next day morning in with a privateer fell we, We’ll go, etc. She bore down upon us, and upon our quarter she did come; She hoisted French colours and to windward fired a gun; This greatly did surprize us, and to quarters we did go. It never shall be said, my boys, but the noble Ann will face the foe. We’ll go, etc. All hands being at quarters to work we did begin; The first broadside she gave us down our topsailyards did come. Our captain call’d, ‘Don’t be afraid, but fight away, like men; It never shall be said, my boys, that we will run from them.’ We’ll go, etc. Our guns being few in number, the number being but five, To fire them it is needless till we can him espy. He play’d upon our bow and quarter; the shot it came like hail: To get our guns to bear upon him made us both curse and rail. We’ll go, etc. Our guns set for the best advantage alongside they did come. We said we need not fire till execution [could] be done; As soon as they bore upon him we immediately let drive, And wounded three of his Irishmen. ’Tis a pity we left them alive. We’ll go, etc. Our captain walked the quarterdeck like a lion stout, Cry’d, ‘Don’t let it be said, my boys, we cowardly give it out.’ Our running ropes, sails, and rigging being all shot away, Our ship in this condition could neither wear nor stay. We’ll go, etc. We fought them five glasses, but found it all in vain; You see she carries 18 guns and we’re sure for to be taken; Our captain cry’d, ‘What must we do? To strike it will be best; The cutter never will leave us until they see us lost.’ We’ll go, etc. Then seeing us an inferior force they unto us did shout, Saying, ‘You poor English dogs, why don’t you give it out?’ We found it was in vain to fight; down colours we did hawl; ‘Hoist out your boat and come aboard’ [unto] us, they did call. We’ll go, etc. O then our captain went aboard, and part of our noble crew. They beat the captain on the head and swore they would run him through; Now into their hold they put us, bound into irons strong, And for twelve days they kept us where we were thick and throng. We’ll go, etc. The first meal that they gave us was calavances and salt beef, Which made us curse fortune and wish for some relief; We lying in this condition, for Ireland Captain Ray in did push Unto the Irish Channel, where he was bound to cruise. We’ll go, etc. They had not cruised many days, but only four or five, Until they spied the Friends brig and soon made her a prize; But cruising two days longer in breast of Boron Head, Which proved to our advantage, they took the Jenny brig. We’ll go, etc. Ransom being made for her, it being all agreed For to knock off our irons and put us aboard with speed, We’re now on board the Jenny. To Glasgow she is bound, And to secure us from the press we landed in a Highland sound. We’ll go, etc.. Now to our joy and comfort we’re landed all on shore, And to Newcastle we are bound, to see our friends once more. But travelling thro’ the Highlands, the people, very poor, They scarce would admit us to come within their door. We’ll go, etc. We being in this condition we travelled long and sore, But as we came to the southward more pity they did show, At last meeting with one John Robson, who proved very kind, And for three days he kept us and maintained us like a friend. We’ll go, etc. After this refreshment on our journey we do proceed, But coming near to Edinburgh we met a rogue indeed, Who pretended to be our friend, but [with] an evil eye, For then he did deceive us, as we in the barns did lie. We’ll go, etc. Next morning after two o’clock 50 of Neper’s gang Came with sword and pistol to take 10 naked men. They finding us able seamen, as we knew very well, They gave us such an offer as is a shame to tell. We’ll go, etc. Now we are all taken, and to Leith we do come Before Captain Neper to receive our doom. We were that night in two barns as we were ne’er before, Or we had broke some of these ruffians’ heads and made them for to roar. We’ll go, etc. He told us we might enter if that we would pay Forty shillings a man to the rogue that did us betray; But Neper’s high offer we rejected with disdain, But we’ll fight for our King against France and against Spain. We’ll go, etc. But I hope in short time sweet peace will be restor’d, And the Devil will have Neper tho’ we’re in the hold. When peace is restor’d to Leith we will come, To pay Neper and his men for what they have done. We’ll go, etc. Come, all you jolly seamen that to Greenland do go, We wish you good success, alltho’ we go no more, For we are forced to serve the King on board of a man-o-war; But expects to return with gold and silver store. We’ll go, etc.

Each bold British tar, Who ne’er dreads wound or scar, Now to honour and glory advance; Never let it be told That Britons so bold Shall stoop to be conquer’d by France. This American war Had ne’er gone on so far Had they not been supported by France; But Keppel so brave, Such music he’ll have, Will teach them the Old English dance. Tho’ railing there’s been ’Gainst statesmen and King And they said, we durst not declare war, But, whether or not, Such a navy we’ve got That will soon be a scourge to Monsieur. Bold Keppel, we know, Was ever their foe, And his courage no Briton need doubt; Two French frigates he’s ta’en, That were sailing the main Our West India fleet for to rout. Now Keppel, they say, Off Brest Harbour does lay: Monsieurs with their fleet can’t come out; If they do they must fight, Which was ne’er their delight. We shall beat them; of that there’s no doubt. Each true British soul, Push round can or bowl, Drink success to his Majesty’s arms And his navy at sea; Then we all must agree We fear no invading alarms.

Come, all ye valiant seamen that plough the raging main, And listen to my ditty, ye jovial sons of fame; It is of the bloody battle between us and Monsieur, And if you’ll give attention the truth of it you’ll hear. On the ninth day of July, at St. Hellens where we lay, Our admiral hove a signal out for all the fleet to weigh. Down Channel we all sail’d, till a Dutchman we did meet, Who gave us the intelligence of seeing the French fleet. The twenty-third of July was the day we hove in sight Of the Duc de Chartres and forty sail so bright. Our admirals hove the signal out for all the fleet to chase, But the French prov’d cowards and run, to their disgrace. We continued chasing them till the twenty-seventh day, Then about the hour of ten at noon our colours we did display. The Shrewsbury, Captain Lockhart, was the first that did engage, Which made our noble admirals hoist their bloody flags with rage. The Egmont, Captain Allen, that ship of mighty fame, She’s worthy to be called the Dread of France by name, For boldly she bore down, and twenty-eight ships engag’d, While our officers and men, boys, did show them British play. The brave Duc de Chartres came rolling in his pride, Thinking to send the Egmont down with one of his broadsides; But he was mistaken, as plainly doth appear, For we gave him such a drubbing as put their hearts in fear, To speak of the Formidable and give that ship her due, She stood in our behalf, boys, like Englishmen so true, The French admiral lying at our stem, thinking us for to take, But [she] gave him a broadside, which [made his heart to ache]. And at the very same time we gave them three more louder. Bold Allen cries, ‘Luff, my boys, and let us smell their powder,’ Our ship was so disabled that she would hardly steer, Which obliged us for to heave her to, our damage to repair. The French they form’d a line again, with a pretence to fight, But on purpose to deceive us and steal away by night. [Two lines missing.] Our ship she was very foul, likewise at Lisbon grounded, With fourteen brave fellows kill’d, and twenty-four was wounded, Which made us cry out, ‘Revenge,’ and made our hearts to grieve To think we could not see them, but they should us deceive. So, to conclude and end my song, I do you kindly greet To drink to our brave admirals and captains in the fleet, Likewise to Captain Allen and his officers so bold, And to his ship’s company; they’re valiant hearts of gold.

Come, all young seamen, wherever you be, That sails with Admiral Keppel to sea, For we are the boys that are loyal and true, That fights for King George and our country too. So, boys, fill your bumpers all round; Success to the fleet that’s outward-bound, For we are the boys that wears true blue And belong to Admiral Keppel’s crew. But when he hoists the British flag, Not France or Spain has room to brag; He will fight the French and Spaniards too, And make Monsieur to cry, ‘Morbleu!’ So, boys, etc. Had Keppel but orders for to fight The French wou’d not have run away at night; No orders he had for to give them their due, Which vex’d the admiral and his brave crew. So, boys, etc. I wish their heads on Temple Bar, Who’d hinder bold fighting in time of war, Or else, like Jack the Painter, to be Hanged high upon Tyburn tree. So, boys, etc. Now drink a health to George our King, Not forgetting Charlotte, his royal Queen, And all brave seamen that sail on the main True blue for ever will never stain. So, boys, etc.

Ye brave British tars, come, attend to my muse, Be jovial and hearty, in wine let’s carouse; For Keppel from the accusation is clear, That was brought against him by Sir Hugh Palliser. One morning, last July, at break of the day, The French was descry’d in battle array: Brave Keppel, impatient to fight proud Monsieur, Directed his course and unto them drew near. The French fleet to windward first gave a broadside. Augustus, undaunted, their great guns defy’d: His fleet, being mann’d with compleat British tars, Appal’d the Monsieur with the thunder of Mars. Aghast the pale French in dismay bore away; Our ships, being crippl’d, oblig’d us to stay, Main-sails, gallant royals, stay-sails to repair, That we might again re-attack the Monsieur. This done, our commander the signal did make For the ships to the lee to come to his wake. Regardless of order, Sir Hugh Palliser Refus’d to obey, and kept back in the rear. This gave the French time to retreat into Brest: But observe the sequel, which is a meer jest. As guilt is always [the] companion of fear, So mind the dark plan of Sir Hugh Palliser. Assisted by Beelzebub, prince of old Styx, His infernal sire, the weapon he strikes; Himself to exculpate, the shaft he lets fly, Intending a sacrifice Keppel should die. The plan was laid down, then the charge it was made, Augustus accused of being afraid To fight the Monsieurs, and of running away, And leaving the French fleet triumphant at sea. But justice and Montague there did preside; They found out the falsehood, his errors descry’d; The jury withdrew, for they all saw the cheat, Acquitted Augustus, because he was great. This true son of Neptune, couragious and bold, Will fight for his king, and by him be controul’d; To minions in power he’ll not be a slave, The French he’ll chastize with a heart free and brave. So now, brother sailors, let us reunite To serve under Keppel, the French for to fight; His name, like the gold from the furnace, shall shine In Old England’s annals to time’s latest line. Then fill up your glasses, and let them not stand; A health to the hero that doth us command: May each British heart and voice say, without fear, ‘A fig for the French and Sir Hugh Palliser!’

Smile, smile, Britannia, smile, on Admiral Keppel smile, Thy darling son; With laurels crown his head; go, Fame, his glory spread; His name monsieurs do dread, from him they run. Goree, th’ Havannah too, where shot in showers flew, Keppel so bold, In the midst of the fray, he to his men did say, ‘We’ll shew them British play and share their gold.’ Tho’ he’s been false-accused, his character abus’d, Still he’s the thing; Keppel these forty years has serv’d in the wars, Fear’d neither wounds nor scars, for George his king. But Twitcher and his crew (I mean his dupe Sir Hugh), Wicked their scheme! To try Keppel did call, thro’ malice, that was all. Lucifer’s pride must fall, like Admiral Byng. Bonfires, bells did ring; Keppel was all the ding, Music did play; Windows with candles in, all for to honour him; People aloud did sing, ‘Keppel! huzza!’ May he draw his sword again in defence of George his king And country’s right. On board the Victory, again his flag does fly. Monsieurs will feel, by-and-by, if he will fight. Go, go, thou base Sir Hugh, vice-admiral of the blue, Prythee be still! Ah! what a wicked dog, to splice the very log! Give him, instead of grog, a leaden pill!

Come, all you jolly sailors of courage stout and bold, Come, listen to these lines; the truth I will unfold. Jack, ensign, and pennant in the morning we let fly, We engag’d the French fleet the 6th of July. Our drums they did beat and to quarters we went, And for to engage the French fleet it was our intent; Our guns they being loaded with round and grape shot, We beat three ports into one on board the Languedoc. There was Admiral Barrington, Britannia’s delight, With courage undaunted he boldly did fight; His rigging being shatter’d, and likewise his sails, He still kept cannonading on board the Prince of Wales. We had one floating battery carry’d guns upon three decks And in the time of action she left her f a legs [sic]. We never back’d our topsails French cannon to shun, But boldly ran the gantlet with Admiral Barrington. If Royal George of England will give us the grant For Admiral Barrington to have the command, We would conquer the French fleet were they ever so strong, We’d hoist the British colours on board the Count d’Estaing. There’s Captain Fitzherbert was valiant in the fight, And in the Royal Oak he took great delight, In the loading their guns and discharging so free; It shew’d that they were loyal to King and country. Come, my brave boys, this engagement is all o’er, And when that we return, my boys, we’ll dance, sing, and roar; This song it shall be with the old and the young: Long life and success unto Admiral Barrington. Our sweethearts and wives they are not to be forgot; The balls they now engage with are softer than French shot. When e’er we do return, my boys, we’ll make these culls to run, We’ll make them dread the sailors that fought with Barrington. Our bowls they are full, and we have plenty for to drink, And that’s the thing which causes me to drop my pen and ink; Whene’er we meet the French dogs we’ll make their jackets smoak, Whilst Captain Fitzherbert commands the Royal Oak.

An American frigate, called the Richard by name, Mounted guns forty-four, out of L’Orient came For to cruise in the Channel of Old England’s fame, With a noble commander: Paul Jones was his name. We had not long cruised before two sails we spied, A large forty-four and a twenty likewise, With fifty bright shipping well loaded with store, And the convoy stood in for the old Yorkshire shore. At length the proud Pearson came up alongside With a long speaking trumpet. ‘Whence came you?’ he cried. Come, answer me quickly—I’ve hailed you before— Or else a broadside into you I will pour.’ Paul Jones he then smiled and to his men did say, ‘Let every man stand to the best of his play.’ We received the broadside from the proud Englishmen, But soon our brave Yankees returned it again. We fought them four glasses, four glasses so hot, Till 40 bold seamen lay dead on the spot, And 55 more lay bleeding in gore, While the thundering large canons of Paul Jones did roar. Our gunner, being frightened, to Paul Jones he came. ‘Our ship she makes water and is likewise in flame.’ Paul Jones he made answer in the height of his pride, ‘If we can do no better we’ll sink alongside.’ Oh, now, my brave boys, we have taken a prize, A large forty-four with a twenty likewise, With twenty fine merchantmen laden with store, So we’ll alter our course to the American shore.

The muse and the hero together are fir’d, The same noble views have their bosoms inspir’d; As freedom they love, and for glory contend, The muse o’er the hero still mourns as a friend; His name from the jaws of oblivion to save, The muse shall immortalize Farmer the brave. His ship was the Quebec, fatal, glorious name, The source to Britannia of sorrow and fame. We’ve twice to our cost that name ill-omen’d found, But now we’ve no balsam to heal this fresh wound, For then tho’ Wolfe’s loss to our joy gave a check, Whilst we morn’d for the chief we rejoic’d for Quebec. At daybreak, ere Phœbus had shed his blest light, Three sail he espy’d, and prepar’d for to fight; October the 6th, anno seventy-nine, With a forty-gun ship he in battle did join; At nine in the morning began the fierce fray, Which without intermission held most of the day. Five hours and upwards the action did last; The shrouds were all torn, and they lost every mast; Tho’ thicker than hail the dread bullets did fly Yet still to his men gallant Farmer did cry, ‘Fight away, my brave boys; I will spend my last breath Ere I’ll yield to the foe: give me conquest or death.’ At length the proud foe was constrain’d to retire; They steer’d to some distance and slackened their fire. The victory, Hibernia, had then been thy son’s, But the sails of the Quebec were fir’d by her guns. Then all was distraction, confusion, despair: The vessel took fire and blew up in the air. Thus fell gallant Farmer, the generous and brave; The Rambler in vain strove his life for to save. Her long boat she hoist out for to take up the crew, But the sea rose too high, and too hard the wind blew. Seventeen she picked up on the waves that did float; The barbarous enemy fir’d at the boat. Ye sons of Hibernia, for valour renown’d, The praises of Farmer, your hero, resound; His name bright shall shine. Then a truce to all grief; Vernon, Warren, Tyrrell shall welcome the chief, And the brave British Cornwall with pleasure shall crown An Hibernian whose exit resembled his own. Taught by his great example let’s danger defy; For the sake of our country let’s conquer or die. May our navy triumphant ride over the main, And check the presumption of Gallia and Spain; And, oh! may some hero rise ere ’tis too late, Chastise insolent Jones, and revenge Farmer’s fate!

Come, rouse up, my lads, let us haste to the main, And load home our chests with the dollars of Spain, For as we have beat them we’ll do so again, And it’s, oh! the bold blades of Old England! They tell us that sixty fine ships of the line Of France and of Spain in the ocean do shine; But let them remember the year fifty-nine; They were banged by the blades, etc. Those villains they thought some advantage to take On America’s land, for to lessen her state; But they quickly shall know it was all a mistake, Convinc’d by the blades, etc. How proudly they came with a numerous host To take, sink, and burn, and to land on our coast; And when they had done nothing went home for to boast Afraid of the blades, etc. Already we have some of their dollars to shew At Liverpool, Guernsey, and London also, And took one of their islands, call’d fam’d Omoa. Oh! the bold blades, etc. Brave Rodney and Parker have done the thing well, And altho’ their admirals made such a swell, Will soon be sent home the news for to tell; They’ve been drub’d by the blades, etc. Bold Rodney, we hear, is come up with a foe, Took one man-of-war, and five frigates also, With about eighteen transports, a very smart blow. Oh! the bold blades, etc. Then come, my true Britons, and fill up the glass To George and his navy; around let it pass, And he that won’t pledge it proclaim him an ass; And it’s, oh! the bold blades, etc.

The foes of Old England (France, Holland, and Spain), Made bold by indulgence, insulted the main; The flag of defiance together unfurl’d, And at England, Old England, their vengence they hurl’d: When Neptune arose from his watry throne; In a coral [red] suit he most beautifully shone; He call’d for his tritons, and bade them repair To the Court of great George, for young William was there. ‘He’s royal, he’s noble, he’s chosen by me This isle to protect and reign prince of the sea.’ O’erjoy’d at the message, the youth rear’d his head. ‘I’ll fight like a prince,’ were the words that he said; ‘The cause of my country I’ll boldly espouse; To the sea I’m wedded, and give her my vows. With Rodney, with Digby, with Ross I will go, And die, but I’ll conquer each insolent foe.’ The tritons reported the words that he said, And Spain heard the plaudits by Neptune then paid: ‘He’s royal, he’s noble, he’s chosen by me Britain’s isle to protect and reign prince of the sea.’ The Dons they have felt the effects of his rage; No more with blood royal they’ll dare to engage; For he stood on the deck with his naked drawn sword, And by the bold Digby he passed the word. Humanity touch’d him, tho’ not with base fear, When one noble ship was blown into the air. His courage gave rapture to each jolly tar, Who look on Prince William their bulwark in war. He’s royal, he’s noble, he’s chosen to be The guard of this isle and the prince of the sea.

Come, all you jovial sailors, give ear unto my song; Let joy inspire your hearts while glory leads you on. The Count de Grasse with all his fleet has threatened us full sore That with his great armada he’d scour the British shore, Our ships he’d sink, our islands take all under his command; But the courage of bold Britons has stopt his warlike hand. The proud and lofty hero in Port Royal harbour lay, And on the eighth of April from thence he sail’d away, And with his floating batteries, in all just thirty-three, A large convoy of transports to bear him company; With troops and ammunition, as plainly does appear, For to besiege Jamaica his course he strait did steer. He thought this great attempt was very bold indeed, But now I will unfold to you how far he did succeed. For Hood soon had tidings the birds had took their flight That he with so much diligence had watch’d both day and night; Then with the gallant British fleet we sail’d from St. Lucia, Resolving the destruction of the daring enemy. It was on the ninth of April, just at the break of day, We spy’d these lofty Frenchmen at Dominica lay. There being but little wind, and they to windward were, In spite of our best efforts their convoy did get clear. The squadron under gallant Hood receiv’d a gallant breeze, To bring the French to action the present moment seiz’d; The whole French fleet we did engage full eight glasses or more, And with our little squadron we well paid their score; And like undaunted Britons each man stood to his gun, Altho’ the French at times were nearly two to one. The rest of our fleet coming up, on them began to play, Which made them to haul their wind, like cowards run away. Those cowards then to windward three days we did pursue, Until the twelfth of April the glorious fight renew’d; The wind did seem to favour us, our fleet hove in a line, And for to close our enemy it was our whole design. Bold Drake led the van, and fully bent was he To die or else to conquer the daring enemy. The action it commenced from the van unto the rear, And we brake their line of battle amidst the smoke of fire. Their Glory was dismasted, our shot so well we plied, While fury round the enemy did rage on every side. So closely we pursued them they knew not where to run To shelter their disabled ships from the fire of English guns. From morning until evening the battle we maintain’d. The sea on every side of us seem’d to be in a flame. The lofty City of Paris and haughty Count de Grasse, The one we took a pris’ner, the other laid avast. What joy inspir’d each Briton’s heart, when the action it did close, To see the lilly of France strike to the English rose. Now the lofty Ville de Paris to Lewis is no more; Behold, she trims her lofty sails to deck Britannia’s shore, With three more of their lofty ships to bear her company, And two, to make the fight compleat, lay buried in the sea. So now bold Lewis think no more bold Britons to ensnare: Our English tars will curb your pride; your boasting we don’t fear. So, Britons, now join chorus and sound our admiral’s praise, Brave gallant Hood, and Drake, the terror of the seas, All captains and lieutenants that fought with courage great, All officers and seamen throughout the British fleet, For we have and will still beat them; so, Britons bold, advance To curb the boasting insults of proud and haughty France.

Ye landsmen all, I pray attend, who live at home at ease, To these lines that I’ve penn’d upon the dangers of the seas; Likewise the loss of the Centaur, a gallant man-of-war, Britons, weep, in the deep lies many a gallant tar. This ship set sail from England, was to the Indies bound, But at her returning was wind and weather bound; Such dreadful storms arising, her rigging tore away, And, alas! all her masts went overboard straightway. In this dreadful situation she was drove up and down; Full three weeks she floated; no assistance could be found; Her guns were all thrown over to lighten her the more: Night and day they did pray to have a sight of shore. But, to add to their sorrow, another storm arose, And to the dreadful seas, poor souls, they were expos’d; At last they found her sinking; the air was rent with cries, Dismal sound, she went down, never more to rise. But as she was sinking two boats were hoisted out, And some, who got on board them, were sadly tost about; And one being overloaded, she sunk and went down. Waves beat high, no ship nigh, so that all on board were drown’d. The captain and twelve sailors were all who did survive, And out of several hundreds these few were left alive, Tho’ they were almost perish’d with hunger and fatigues, No delay, for night and day they did row many leagues. Only three days’ provisions, which they made last for nine, And in this low condition of land could see no sign; Full sixteen days drove up and down before they reached the land, Such a sight was a fright, so weak they could not stand. Ye landsmen, take compassion on those that plough the main, For the honour of the nation, its rights for to maintain. How they’re exposed to danger these lines do plainly show; We [im]plore that no more may such hardships ever know.

Come, all ye young seamen that plow on the main, Oh! have you not heard of the valiant ship of fame? Her name it is the Robin Hood, as you have been told; She’s commanded by Little-John, of courage so bold. I’ll tell you of a fight, boys, and how it did begin. It was in Gibraltar Gut, which is near unto Apes Hill; It was three privateers that belonged unto Spain, Who thought our British courage for to stain. I’ll tell you, brother sailors: it was on a calm day, Then one of the privateers they boarded us straightway: They hove in their powder flasks and their stink-pots, But we repaid them with our small shot. They being in number three hundred and more, And is not equal, you’ll say, unto threescore: But now I will tell you the courage of our men, That we valu’d them not, if they had been ten. Our small arms did rattle, and our great guns did roar, Till one of them we sunk, and the other run ashore; Such a slaughter we made as you seldom shall see, Till an hundred and eighty we drown’d in the sea. Our fight being over, and our fray being done, And every man then scowering his gun, And every man to a full flowing bowl; Here’s a health to all British loyal souls. There’s one thing more does trouble our mind; It’s for to leave our chief mate, that noble soul, behind, But he being wounded most desperate sore, We were forced for to leave him at Gibraltar. But now, my brave boys, we are plowing of the main, In spite of our enemies France or Spain: It’s all for to gain both honour and gold, And we’ll let them know Little-John won’t be control’d. My name is George Cook, the author of this, And he may be hang’d that will take it amiss.

Come, all you British heroes, listen to what I say; ’Tis of a noble battle that was fought the other day; And such a sharp engagement we hardly ever knew: Our officers were valiant and our sailors so true. The La Nymphe was our frigate, and she carried a valiant crew, With thirty-six twelve-pounders, that made the French to rue. At daylight in the morning the French hove in sight; Captain Pellew he commanded us in this fight. Full forty eighteen-pounders we had for to engage; The French they thought to confound us, they seemed so much enrag’d. Our captain cry’d, ‘Be steady, boys, and well supply each gun; We’ll take this haughty Frenchman, or force her for to run.’ The action then began, my boys, [with] shot on every side; They thought her weight of metal would soon subdue our pride. I think the second broadside her captain he was slain, And many a valiant Frenchman upon the decks were lain. We fought on with such fury, made every shot to tell, And thirteen brave seamen in our ship there fell, Tho’ forty-five minutes was the time this fight did last, The French ship lost her tiller and likewise her mizen mast. Then yard arm and yard arm we by each other lay, And sure such noble courage to each other did display; We form’d a resolution to give the French a check, And instantly we boarded her off the quarter-deck. Her colours being struck, my boys, she then became our prize, And our young ship’s company subdued our enemies, Altho’ they were superior in metal and in men. Of such engagement you may seldom hear again. And now in Portsmouth Harbour our prize is safely moor’d. Success to all brave sailors that enter now on board; A health to Captain Pellew, and all his sailors bold, Who value more their honour than misers do their gold.

The 28th of May the French fleet hove in sight. Lord Howe he made a signal; resolv’d he was to fight. Then his ships in a line he drew, And cannon balls straight at them flew, Resolv’d the French dogs to subdue, Like brave British boys. On the 29th again our ships in line we drew; Resolv’d was each man the action to renew. Admiral Gardiner then the line he broke, Which in our favour spoke, Crying, ‘Monsieur, we will make you smoke, Like true British boys.’ At last the glorious day, call’d the first of June— So well I do remember, it was about noon— We to windward of them lay, And down to them we bore away, Resolv’d our courage to display, Like brave British boys. And then the bold Brunswick for honour she did try, Alongside the Vengeur two hours she did lie, Brave Captain Harvey he did cry, ‘My lads, we have orders to comply; We’ll make her strike or else we’ll die Like brave Brunswick boys.’ Our officers and our ship’s crew so well did play their part Nine shot from our guns in her copper we did dart, Till down her colours she did haul, And to be boarded aloud did bawl, Crying out, ‘Monsieur, we’ll sink you all,’ Say the brave Brunswick boys. Another on our larboard side to board us she came, And to put us all to death, the America by name; But with our skill we all did try, And three broadsides at her let fly, And her three masts on board did lie, By the brave Brunswick boys. Success to Lord Howe, and all his noble fleet; Such a set of fighting fellows together ne’er did meet. May they together still remain, And brave Lord Howe still rule the main For to subdue Monsieur again, Like brave British boys. Success to King George, likewise our royal Queen, And may they be happy throughout their glorious reign, And may God forget them quite, That will not go and fight, For to maintain great George’s right, Like brave British boys.

Come, all ye British hearts of gold, A glorious tale I will unfold Of Howe, who fought the French so bold, On board the Queen Charlotte. On June the first this fight began: Our admiral he led the van; Our shot did play so hot that day The French they try’d to run away, But Howe took care they should not. The Charlotte, with Lord Howe therein, This fierce encounter did begin, [And] bravely threw her [broadside] in Against the French commander, Who found it so hot that day That no longer there could stay, But, crouding sail, he bore away; He was no salamander. They left us seven ships that day, So crippl’d, could not get away; Like logs they on the sea did lay, So hot was their reception. Two of them carried eighty guns, Five seventy-fours were noble ones. Huzza! huzza! their admiral runs; He could get no redemption. Bravo Bowyer, Pasley, Captain Hutt, Each lost a leg, being sorely hurt; Their lives they valu’d but as dirt, When that their country call’d them. Poor Montague was kill’d that day; ’Twas by their shot, which fierce did play Before the French they ran away, When we so sorely maul’d them. Of French ships there were twenty-six When first upon them we did fix. We valu’d not their Gallic tricks, We had but twenty-five sail; We being British sailors bold, Who value honour more than gold, Our courage has been try’d of old, We ever will prevail. So since these French ships are brought in, In honour of great George, our King, In praise of sailors let us sing, And drink to each brave tar, sir; For they are lads to win the day, And drive the boasting French away; To face our shot they will not stay, Our fame is heard afar, sir.

’Twas on the twenty-eighth of May, the morning being clear, A fleet to windward we espy’d; they Frenchmen did appear. The signal for the same being made, the chace was soon begun; And then for battle we prepar’d, to shew monsieurs some fun. Our ship being clear’d, the foe we near’d, with expectations high, That we should show the murd’rous foe, that British courage still would flow, To make them strike or die. The fam’d Bellerophon began her cannons first to play Upon a three-deck’d ship of theirs, which could not run away: Our hearts of gold their shot well told, in show’rs about her side, ‘Till the Leviathan came up, the battle to divide; Then seeing plain ’twas quite in vain the contest more to try, She struck; and this does shew that British courage still will flow, To make them strike or die. Night coming on, the battle ceas’d, till Phœbus rose again, When we beheld this trait’rous fleet still vaunting on the main; Our line being form’d, and all hearts warm’d, the fight was soon renew’d; Determined to hand down that flag, which with contempt we view’d. Lord Howe engaged their hottest rage; he broke their line to try If such manœuvres would not shew that British courage still would flow, To make them strike or die. The battle warmly was maintain’d, much valour was display’d, Till night, with all her sable train, the action still delay’d. Now since again all o’er the main these rebels can’t be found We’ll toast our admirals in our glass; our girls, too, shall go round. Each heart shall sing, ‘Long Live the King!’ and each again reply. ‘If e’er we’re call’d again we’ll shew that British courage still shall flow, To make them strike or die.’ Part II. We anxiously the Frenchmen sought for two days o’er the main, And on the first of June we brought those rebels to again. Lord Howe the signal made for each his opposite to take, Not doubting then that such brave men would soon a conquest make. The fight began, and ev’ry man his utmost power did try To make these traitors feel and know that British courage still would flow, To make them strike or die. Two hours or more this battle was with matchless warmth maintain’d, When Providence smil’d on our cause and vict’ry for us gain’d. Though at one time three of the line upon our ship did fall Yet we so well our shot did tell that we beat off them all. The masts of one were soon brought down, and she a log did lie, To make these ‘sans-culottes’ all know that British courage still shall flow, To make them strike or die. Our gallant chief commander too, by three was clos’d around; He fought so bravely that the foe was forc’d to quit his ground. Now nine or ten upon the main dismasted wrecks they lay; And all the rest got so well drest they did not chuse to stay. Thus o’er the main being left to reign, to England soon we’ll hie With all our prizes, which will shew that British courage still will flow, To make them strike or die. But one small tribute let me pay, which justice does demand, To Admiral Pasley, who this day was ta’en from his command. One wicked shot, which they had got, his leg did sever soon, Which robb’d the van of this brave man long e’er the fight was done. Yet ’midst such play he’d smile and say, ‘Fight on, my lads, and try To make these rebel Frenchmen know that British courage still will flow, To make them strike or die.’ My shipmates, now let’s celebrate a day of great renown, Which will this victory relate to ages yet unknown. Come, let us raise our voice to praise the gallant name of Howe, Who by this check the stubborn neck of France has made to bow. May peace again, and all her train, with blessings from on high, Shine on our Isle! then all shall know that Britons will such courage shew, To make them strike or die.

You Frenchmen, don’t boast of your fighting, nor talk of great deeds, ’tis in vain; Do you think that Old England you’ll frighten as easy as Holland and Spain? We listen and laugh while you threaten, your boasting the valour of France, Since your frigate Le Pique has been beaten by the jolly brave tars of the Blanche. She sail’d from the bay of Point Petre, four hundred and fifty on board, And we were all ready to meet her: to conquer or die was the word! The cans of good liquor were flowing, we gave them three cheers to advance, And courage in each heart was glowing, for cowards ne’er sail’d in the Blanche. The night then upon us declining, the moon did afford us a light, Each star with fresh lustre was shining, to keep the French frigate in sight. The breeze gently filled all our sails, our ship through the water did launch, And the grog flew in bumpers and pails amongst the brave tars in the Blanche. At midnight we came alongside, each ship being prepared for the fight; ‘Huzza!’ then bold Faulkner he cried, ‘we’ll conquer or perish this night’; So they gave us a broadside to try our courage and found us all staunch, Not a man there but rather would die, than cowardly yield up the Blanche. The fight made the sea seem on fire; each bullet destructively flew. Britannia her sons did inspire with courage that damp’d the French crew, Saying, ‘Cowards, you surely must die, for over you Death turns his lance,’ While our balls repeat as they fly, ‘Fight on, my brave tars of the Blanche.’ Our mainmast and mizen being gone the Frenchmen they thought us their own, And with ‘Vive la République!’ their song we thought they would never have done. We joined in their song undismayed, with music that made them all dance, And not a false note was there played by the harmonious tars of the Blanche. When Faulkner resigned his last breath each tar gave a tear and a sigh, Such sorrow was found at his death, but we’ll soon be revenged was the cry, But, like Wolfe, with victory crowned, at his death he said ‘Ne’er mind my chance; Fight on, my brave boys, or be drowned on board of our frigate the Blanche.’ Bold Watkins his place soon supplied, and like a bold Hector engaged His guns with more judgment to guide, for the death of his captain enraged; And who could our fury allay when Le Pique alongside did advance? The masts being all shot away we grappled her close to the Blanche. They thought it in vain to withstand; they called out for quarter amain. Although the advantage they had still Britons were lords of the main. So push the grog round, let it pass, since they found us true-hearted and staunch; Every lad with his favourite lass drink success to the tars of the Blanche.

Come, all you British seamen bold, that plow the raging main, Come, listen to my tragedy while I relate the same; ’Tis what we underwent all on the raging main. Bold Reynolds was our commander in the ship called the Amazon. On the 30th of December in Falmouth as we lay Our orders came on board our anchors for to weigh; So ‘Heave away!’ our captain cried; ‘we have no time to spare: We’ll set our canvas to the breeze and through the ocean steer.’ Our anchors weigh’d, our sails were set, our ship she seemed to fly; It was the Indefatigable that bore us company. We must bid adieu to our sweethearts because we must cross the main, Hoping in a short time after to see them all again. We steered our course to the southward as far as Cape Finisterre, Cruising the seas for several days and nothing could [find there], Till, running down the coast of Spain, three merchantmen we took, And sent them home to England while we for more did look. But in bearing up for England an American ship we see, That gave us good intelligence the French was at sea. The weather it was thick, and, under an easy sail, The wind it blew north-north-east and it blew a briskish gale. On the 28th of January a man sung from aloft That he spy’d a lofty man-of-war at a distance three leagues off. She’s a very lofty ship, the truth we will declare; She crowded all sails she could, expecting to get clear. But we were at the heels of her, and night coming on, At six o’clock that very night the bloody fight begun. With broadside to broadside we play’d them two to one, Till the blood out of the scupper holes all in a gore did run. Both round, grape, and double-head we poured in so fast, [That] at eight o’clock that very night down came [her] mizen mast. We engag’d them five glasses as close as we could lay, While great guns, small arms, and cutlasses most sweetly they did play. The Frenchmen all for quarters aloud to us did cry; Their colours struck, no more could fight for love or liberty. But the remnant of their shattered crew they unto us tell That out of fifteen hundred men eight hundred of them fell. This ship was call’d the Droits de l’Homme; from Brest she lately came, With guns mounted ninety-eight on board and fifteen hundred men. Her intention was Ireland her troops all there to land, But bold Pellew and his ship’s crew did stop their warlike band. Twas early the next morning the land it did appear, And they were so disabled, from it they could not get clear; And we were so disabled we could not veer or tack, But down alongside our enemy we soon became a wreck. So now the Indefatigable is bound for England’s shore To let our suffering country know the Amazon’s no more. Still, we’ll drink to George our King, we’ll convince him of the same, That British tars for evermore rule lords of the main.

Come, all you bold Britons to the seas do belong, Of the seventeen bright stars I will sing you a song. On the 15th of April, at Spithead as we lay, Lord Bridport he hove out a signal to weigh: But we one and all refused to obey. The reason unto you I now will relate: We resolved to refuse the purser’s short weight; Our humble petition to Lord Howe we sent, That he to the Admiralty write to present Our provisions and wages that they might augment. But soon, to our grief, as you shall understand, They refused to comply with our humble demand; Although to the Army they granted more pay, While we sons of Neptune neglected did lay. But the 15th of April soon roused them straightway. Then each son of Neptune took their oath without dread, Until redress was obtained not to sail from Spithead; Two tars from each ship of the line did appear On board the Queen Charlotte without dread or fear, While the ships manned their yards with a thundering loud cheer. Billy Pitt and Dundas soon heard of the news. They fell in a rage, and the tars did abuse; They sent for Lord Spencer and unto him did say: ‘For Portsmouth, my Lord, and make no delay, For the mutinous tars refuse to obey.’ Lord Spencer unto us these words did express: ‘Your grievance, my lads, shall soon be redress; Full provisions we have granted and a shilling a day.’ We trusted their honour, and our anchors did weigh, But the wind coming west, at St. Helens we did lay. Now Providence, resolved we should not be oppressed, For a fortnight or more kept the wind at south-west; During which time, to our great surprize, The Act was not passed to grant us supplies, But Bedford and Clarence did open our eyes. When we found from their promise they meant for to run, We resolved to force them before we had done. When the signal was made for sea to repair, We then did refuse with another loud cheer, Which made our proud rulers to quake and to fear. The murdering Colpoys, Vice-Admiral of the blue, Gave order to fire on the London ship’s crew; While the enemy of Britain was ploughing the sea, He, like a base coward, let them get away When the French and their transports sailed for Bantry Bay. But at length from our king Lord Howe he was sent To redress our grievance to our full content; We received the old hero with joy as our friend, And the Act being passed we will cheerfully sing ‘Confusion to France and long live our King!’ Now, my brave boys, down Channel we steer ’Long with brave Bridport in search of Mounseer. May Heaven but grant what we crave for a boon, That these boasting invaders may out to us come, And the tune that we will play them is the ‘First of June.’ So now I must finish these lines that I have penned. I hope no true Briton at them may be offended, But remember the 15th of April, I pray, And our wives and children keep a holiday; For what April began we finish in May. Drink a health to Lord Howe in a full flowing glass, Confusion to Pitt, likewise to Dundas. The seventeen bright stars in a bumper shall roar, Their praises shall sound from shore unto shore, And they will never be forgot until Britain’s no more.

The Genius of Britain went hovering round, For she fear’d that fair Freedom was fled; But she found to her joy that she was not quite gone, But remain’d with the fleet at Spithead. Rejoic’d at the news, to the Charlotte she flew, Where fair Freedom she heard sat enthron’d: They all man’d the yards as the goddess came [in], For Britain and Freedom they own’d. The fleet hail’d the goddess with three hearty cheers As she stood on the Charlotte’s gangway, She drop’d a sad tear as she look’d on her sons Who so long neglected had lay; She was led to the cabin. Fair Freedom was there, True Loyalty sat by her side; Britannia sat down in a transport of joy: ‘All hail to my heroes!’ she cry’d. Every ship in the line sent two seamen so brave, Whom the goddess receiv’d with a smile: They assured her that if they were treated like men They would still guard her favourite isle. ‘Go on, my brave sons, in the steps you now tread, Be virtue your guide and your guard, And God, who rules over the land and the sea, Will your honest endeavours reward.’ The Genius of Ireland came in with her harp, She saluted fair Freedom with tears, They man’d the yards to welcome her o’er, And every ship gave three cheers. Success to the seventeen united bright stars, Let their praise echo round every shore, And the fifteenth of April will ne’er be forgot Till Britannia and Freedom’s no more.

The tars of Old England have long toil’d in vain, From the time of King Charles down to the present reign; But their royal master their wages doth raise, So join, British sailors, in King George’s praise. The fleet of Lord Bridport, the terror of France, Petition’d the throne that their pay might advance. Their petitions were granted, each grievance redress’d, In the heart of each seaman great George he is bless’d. No longer neglected, no longer forlorn, Brave seamen will wander, dejected, our scorn; Their petitions are granted, each grievance made known Soon met with redress at the foot of the throne. Cheer, cheer, British seamen, your sails now unfurl, Against our proud foes soon defiance we’ll hurl; Our toils are rewarded, advanc’d is our pay. Success to those seamen who gain’d us the day! Adieu, pretty Nancy of Portsmouth, adieu! When your William is absent, I pray then be true. To fight for our king and our country we go; Our toils are rewarded, we’ll face the proud foe. Farewell to our children; farewell, dearest wives! We don’t leave you distress’d, tho’ we venture our lives: Our pay is advanced, which you shall receive; Then dry up each tear, girls, and cease for to grieve. Then, my boys, hoist your sails, to Old England adieu, No longer oppressed, to you we’ll prove true: You shall find that a tar is both grateful and brave— We’ll die, but our king and our country we’ll save. Three cheers, lads! three cheers, lads! we lose sight of land. In defence of our country we’ll join heart and hand; And when we return, boys, we’ll drink, dance and sing With wives and with sweethearts, so God save the King!

I will not sing in Parker’s praise, disgraceful is the story, Nor yet to seamen tune my lays, eclipsed is now their glory; Fell Faction’s head they proudly rear ’gainst country and ’gainst king, sir, And on their land they now do try destruction for to bring, sir. Then Britons all, with one accord, fight for your Constitution, And let surrounding foes behold we want no revolution. Parker the means has brought about our seamen to corrupt, sir, And like a daring traitor bold, our trade doth interrupt, sir; The ships at Sheerness rear the flag, the emblem of defiance, With sorrow strikes us to reflect, on them we’ve no reliance. Then Britons all, etc. An admiral he calls himself, takes a commander’s station, On board the Sandwich doth insult, and braves the English nation; Gives law, dispenses life and death or punishment disgraceful, And by his arbitrary deeds hath made himself most hateful. Then Britons all, etc. A terror to each merchant ship, detains and doth them plunder, And if they offer to sail by, his guns at them do thunder; Whate’er he likes he from them takes, and should they dare refuse, sir, The captain’s ordered to be flogged, thus doth he them ill use, sir. Then Britons all, etc. Five hundred pounds is the reward, the traitor to bring in, sir, Who thus the bloody flag hath reared ’gainst country and ’gainst king, sir; Let’s hope the villain quickly will to punishment be brought, sir, Who like a daring traitor bold his country’s ruin sought, sir. Then Britons all, with one accord, fight for your Constitution, And let surrounding foes behold we want no revolution.

Ye gods above, protect a widow! and with pity look on me. Help, O help me out of trouble, out of sad calamity! It was by the death of Parker fortune prov’d to me unkind; And though hung for mutiny, worse than he were left behind. Parker was my lawful husband, my bosom friend, whom I loved dear; Yet at the time he was to suffer, alas! I could not him get near! Again I ask’d, again I tried them—three times o’er and o’er, in vain; They still that one request denied me, and ordered me on shore again. The yellow flag I thought was flying, a signal for my love to die; The gun they fired, as was required, to hang him on the yard-arm high. The boatswain did his best endeavour, and I on shore was sent straightway, Where I stood watching, like a mermaid, to take my husband’s corpse away. At dead of night, when all was silent and many thousands fast asleep, I, by two female friends attended, into the burying ground did creep. Our trembling hands did serve as shovels with which the mould we moved away, And then the body of my husband carried off without delay. A mourning coach for him was waiting: we drove to London with all speed, Where decently I had him buried and a sermon o’er him said. And now his sorrows are all over, and he’s free from guilt and pain; I hope in heaven his soul is shining, where I shall meet with him again. Farewell, Parker, thou bright angel! once thou wert the Navy’s pride; Since we did not die together, separate we must abide. I must wait awhile with patience; on earth I hope not long to stay, When we shall meet once more in glory, and all our sins be wash’d away.

To tame the Dutch, our treacherous foes, And give Mynheers a bloody nose, Brave Duncan to the Texel goes, Expecting they would meet him. Many boisterous nights and days We roll’d upon the raging seas, Enduring hardships various ways; Wind and cold, in storms we roll’d, Yet our tars and admirals bold Resolved they would beat them. No toils nor storms the Dutch endure, But snug at home they sleep secure, And judge it safe not to unmoor While Duncan keeps his station. When our brave Admiral saw their plan, He said, ‘We’ll ’tice them if we can: Let it be known that we are gone To Yarmouth Roads to take on board Fresh wholesome stores our isles afford— They’ll credit the relation.’ Then we bore off for England’s shore, And moored in Yarmouth Roads once more. Our anchors soon the deep explore; We quickly were refitted. Our Admiral soon a signal ’spies: ‘Prepare, my lads!’ he loudly cries; ‘The proud Mynheer from the Texel steers; Our anchors weigh—make no delay, We’ll shew our cowardly enemy ’Tis in vain for to escape us.’ The shore we clear’d, and off we steer’d, And soon in sight the Dutch appear’d; The signal rose, the sailors cheer’d, And quickly rang’d for battle. All hands then to their quarters run, Each tar with courage seiz’d his gun; At twelve the bloody fight begun, At every fire our foes expire; We drubbed them to our heart’s desire: God prosper British sailors! Dutch ships eleven with fire and rage Did fiercely three of ours engage, But we their fury did assuage And made them to surrender: De Winter haul’d his colours down, And their vice-admiral soon did own That victory British tars must crown; Of eleven more that struck, but four Escap’d to tell their friends on shore That all the rest were taken. On board the Ardent, known so well, Brave Captain Burgess boldly fell; His loss we mourn, but fame shall tell His worth to future ages. Our efforts they could not evade, Two admirals we prisoners made; Ships of the line we captured nine: In a battered state the rest retreat, To weep at home their sad defeat On the glorious eleventh of October. Let every loyal Briton sing God save great George our King! And in her train may Victory bring Long peace unto our nation; To Duncan and his tars success, Who did the Dutch so warmly dress; And Vincent bold, who Spain controul’d; With Home also, who aim’d a blow That brought the fleet of Gallia low. Success to all true Britons!

Bright honor now calls—each true Briton attend Unto these few lines which here I have penn’d. I sing of a battle that was fought at sea, The Mars was the British, the French ship Herculé. Chorus. Then fill up a glass to each tar stout and good, Success to each seaman—a tear for brave Hood. We were cruising off Brest when the French we did spy: We quickly gave chase, but they from us did fly; We crouded each sail and gave them a broadside, Fought them more than two hours and lower’d their pride. We brought her to England, the flower of France— Thus, thus may we serve all who dare to advance. She’s been built but six weeks, and her guns were fourscore, Whilst the brave little Mars carry’d seventy-four. Yet see, see Britannia with sorrow is fill’d, For brave Captain Hood in the action was kill’d; Likewise the Marines lost their captain so bold, His name it was White, worth his full weight in gold. The French lost three hundred, and we lost threescore, In kill’d and in wounded. Thank God ’twas no more! Here’s a health to the crew of the brave jolly Mars, With another full bumper to all jolly tars.

When in the cockpit all was dim, And not a mid dared show his glim, A youth was left alone. He scratched his head, surveyed his clothes, Then took the other cheering dose, And thus began his moan:— ‘Ah! Cursed be that fatal day When I from home was led astray, In this damned place to dwell: Oh! had I in the country stay’d I might have learnt some useful trade And scorn’d the white lapelle. ‘When first on board the ship I went, My belly full, my mind content,— No sorrows touched my heart: I view’d my coat, so flash and new, My gay cockade, my hanger too, And thought them wondrous smart. ‘But now, alas! my coat is rent; My hanger’s pawned; my money spent; My former friends I’ve missed; And when of hardships I complain, My messmates swear ’tis all in vain, And cry “What made you list?” ‘But hark! I hear the corp’ral’s tread: Another dose, and then to bed, Of every joy bereft: I shake my bottle with a doubt; My poor half-pint is quite drained out, Not one kind drop is left.’ The youth with indignation burns, Into his hated hammock turns; Alas! not long to sleep: The quartermaster, with hoarse tongue, Awakes him; says ‘The bell has rung!’ He’s roused, his watch to keep. Shiv’ring he walks the quarter-deck, Dreading the stern lieutenant’s check, Who struts the weather-side; With glass and trumpet in his hand, He bellows forth his harsh command, With arrogance and pride.

Come, all you British sailors bold, and listen to my song: It’s well worth your attention, and I will not keep you long; It’s of a British squadron that sailed the other day, Commanded by Lord Nelson on the 29th of May. We had just twelve sail of the line, our fleet it was no more, Besides a frigate and a brig, to cruise the Straits all o’er. In chasing of those French dogs our intention it was good, With the wind at S.S.E., my boys, our course for Naples stood. When we came to Naples no French fleet had been there; Back to the isle of Sicily our course we then did steer, Where we watered all our warlike ships, likewise refreshed our men. All things complete, and the wind set fair, we put to sea again. We scarce had made the island when a strange sail we spied, Gave chase and soon came up with her—she proved the Reguli. She told us Malta was taken and the French fleet put to sea With the whole of their old troops on board, bound for Alexandrie. Great was our disappointment; our ships their winds did haul, And slowly standing down the coast in a silent cruise we call. [They sight the ‘Pharos’ and open the bay. And there we spied the French fleet about three leagues or more. [They bear down and form line of battle. It was the first of August, that being our glorious day When we began the action, ’twas in Aboukir Bay. [The next verses name all the ships in their order.] The Zealous led the way, my boys,... ... the Bellerophon and Minotaur, All followed by the bold Vanguard which made the French to rue. We anchored alongside of them like lions bold and free. When their masts and shrouds came tumbling down, what a glorious sight to see! Then came the bold Leander, that noble fifty-four, And on the bows of the Franklin she caused her guns to roar; Gave her a dreadful drubbing, boys, and did severely maul, Which caused them loud for quarter cry and down French colours haul. Now the glory and the pride of France the L’Orient was called, And in the centre of their line she got severely mauled; Gave her a dreadful drubbing, boys, took fire and up she blew, With fourteen hundred souls on board which bid this world adieu. And now we’ve taken the French fleet—Lord speed them on their way!— Besides some more we burnt and sunk before we left the bay. May we always prove victorious while we sail on the seas, Against the French, the Dutch, the Danes, and all our enemies.

You Britons bold, that never was controul’d, come listen unto me, And a song to you I’ll sing, none but the truth you’ll hear: Concerning of a fight, brave boys, which happen’d late, you know, Commanded by bold Portlock, and the ship call’d the Arrow. The most of people call’d her the Carpenter’s Mistake, Because she had two maintopsail-yards, and head and stern alike. They said she’d prove a coffin to all our brave ship’s crew; But instead of that, my British boys made the Dutch dogs to rue. We being new constructed, they said our guns were leather; They said we steer’d by sleight of hand, they could not see our ruther. They said our sides were gingerbread, and our shot were made of clay, But the Dutch they prov’d full sorry on’t when us they felt that day. On the thirteenth of September we saw a Dutch ship lay All at anchor in Hallen’s stream: we bore for her straightway. In full fifteen minutes raked fore and aft we were Before we could come up to her or bring our guns to bear. But, when we did come up to her, our anchor we let go. Their captain cries, ‘Come, British boys, we will make sure of you.’ But when we did begin, my boys, the yards and rigging flew For raking us we paid them off, both for the old and new. The second broadside we gave to them their ensign staff came down. ‘Well done, my boys!’ our captain cries; ‘they see us in Hallen stream town How we do use their shipping so nigh unto their shore.’ And the people stood a-looking on, and heard our great guns roar. For five-and-twenty minutes so swift we sent them shot, Our action it was very short, but it was very hot. Whilst they sung out for quarter, our captain he did say, ‘Avast, my boys, with honour, we’ve shown them British play. ‘The action being over, and the pris’ners safe on board, We’ll keep safe below, my boys, and toss a can of grog. And when we come to Portsmouth, with a girl on each knee, We’ll spend our money cheerfully, and then again to sea.’ It is now for to finish this my warlike song, I am a saucy foremast Jack, to the Arrow do belong. In praise of Captain Portlock and his officers we’ll sing, And not forgetting the Arrow’s crew, and long live George our King!

Of Nelson and the north, Sing the day, When, their haughty powers to vex, He engaged the Danish decks; And with twenty floating wrecks Crowned the fray. All bright, in April’s sun, Shone the day, When a British fleet came down Through the islands of the Crown, And by Copenhagen town Took their stay. In arms the Danish shore Proudly shone; By each gun the lighted brand In a bold, determined hand, And the Prince of all the land Led them on. For Denmark here had drawn All her might: From her battleships so vast She had hewn away the mast, And at anchor, to the last Bade them fight. Another noble fleet Of their line Rode out; but these were nought To the batteries which they brought Like Leviathans afloat In the brine. It was ten of Thursday morn By the chime, As they drifted on their path There was silence deep as death, And the boldest held his breath For a time— Ere a first and fatal round Shook the flood. Every Dane looked out that day, Like the red wolt on his prey; And he swore his flag to sway O’er our blood. Not such a mind possessed England’s tar; ’Twas the love of noble game Set his oaken heart on flame— For to him ’twas all the same, Sport and war. All hands and eyes on watch As they keep; By their motion light as wings, By each step that haughty springs, You might know them for the kings Of the deep. ’Twas the Edgar first that smote Denmark’s line; As her flag the foremost soared, Murray stamped his foot on board, And an hundred cannons roared At the sign. Three cheers of all the fleet Sung Huzza! Then from centre, rear, and van, Every captain, every man, With a lion’s heart began To the fray. Oh, dark grew soon the heavens— For each gun From its adamantine lips Spread a death-shade round the ships, Like a hurricane eclipse Of the sun. Three hours the raging fire Did not slack; But the fourth, their signals drear Of distress and wreck appear, And the Dane a feeble cheer Sent us back. The voice decayed; their shots Slowly boom. They ceased—and all is wail, As they strike the shattered sail, Or in conflagration pale Light the gloom. Oh, death—it was a sight Filled our eyes! But we rescued many a crew From the waves of scarlet hue Ere the Cross of England flew O’er her prize. Why cease not here the strife, O ye brave? Why bleeds old England’s band By the fire of Danish land, That smites the very hand Stretched to save? But the Britons sent to warn Denmark’s town: ‘Proud foes, let vengeance sleep! If another chain-shot sweep— All your navy in the deep Shall go down. ‘Then, peace instead of death Let us bring! If you’ll yield your conquered fleet, With the crews, at England’s feet, And make submission meet To our King.’ The Dane returned, a truce Glad to bring: He would yield his conquered fleet, With the crews, at England’s feet, And make submission meet To our King. Then Death withdrew his pall From the day; And the sun looked smiling bright On a wide and woful sight Where the fires of funeral light Died away. Yet, all amidst her wrecks And her gore, Proud Denmark blest our chief That he gave her wounds relief; And the sounds of joy and grief Filled her shore. All round, outlandish cries Loudly broke; But a nobler note was rung When the British, old and young, To their bands of music sung ‘Hearts of Oak!’ Cheer! cheer! from park and tower, London town! When the King shall ride in state From St. James’s royal gate, And to all his peers relate Our renown! The bells shall ring! the day Shall not close, But a blaze of cities bright Shall illuminate the night, And the wine-cup shine in light As it flows. Yes—yet amid the joy And uproar, Let us think of them that sleep Full many a fathom deep, All beside thy rocky steep, Elsinore! Brave hearts, to Britain’s weal Once so true! Though death has quenched your flame, Yet immortal be your name! For ye died the death of fame With Riou. Soft sigh the winds of Heaven O’er your grave! While the billow mournful rolls And the mermaid’s song condoles, Singing—glory to the souls Of the brave.

You undaunted sons of Britannia, lend an ear, A story concerning a fight you shall hear. It was on March the 12th, my boys, our fleet did sail Out of Yarmouth with a sweet and pleasant gale. Our Commander-in-Chief, Admiral Parker by name, And Vice-Admiral Nelson, that man of great fame, And Rear-Admiral Graves which drew up the rear, While so boldly for Elsenore Castle we steer’d. On the 13th we so boldly pass’d Elsenore by, While so many thousand shot and shells they did fly; Then straight for Copenhagen our fleet they did steer, And we anchor’d abreast of the town without fear. On the second of April it was the glorious day When bold Nelson’s division they got under weigh— Each ship set for action, each man to his gun, Resolv’d so boldly we was for to run. It was into the roads where the Danish flag did fly, Determin’d alongside of their fleet for to lie; Said we will make them to strike, my boys, or else we’ll send them down, There for to storm and set fire to their town. The first was the Edgar, she did lead the van, At eleven o’clock the heavy fire began, The Ardent and Glatton, the rest did the same, The Defiance and Monarch behaved with great fame. Then in came Lord Nelson, in the Elephant; Next Bellona and Ganges, so boldly they went; The bold Polyphemus run in the same way, And the brave little Isis her part she did play. The Amazon, the Hermione, the Desirée and Blanch, They anchor’d in the line and behav’d so staunch; The Otter and the Dart they anchor’d also, Until by a signal was forc’d for to go. Now these four frigates that we have mentioned here, And two little sloops that run in without fear, They all run and anchor’d alongside the fleet, Their forts the same time they began to defeat. But so great was their mistake, at about four o’clock They found they could no longer stand our shot; For their batteries we clear’d, my boys, which was our own desire And the town in three places our bombs set on fire. Seven of their two-deckers to us they did strike, And six floating batteries likewise did the like. ‘Well done, my brave boys!’ said Lord Nelson; ‘that’s right, For your courage and mine you have displayed in this fight.’ So now, my brave boys, let it never be said That ever Lord Nelson or Graves was afraid. Success to our officers throughout the whole fleet, That encouraged the Britons the Danes to defeat. So now [to conclude and to finish my log], Call up the steward to serve out the grog. Here’s a health to our wives and sweethearts at home, For they’ll give us a glass when to England we come.