SONGS AND BALLADS (continued 6)

Draw near, ye gallant seamen, while I the truth unfold Of as gallant a naval victory as ever yet was told. The second day of April last, upon the Baltic main, Parker, Nelson, and their brave tars fresh laurels there did gain. With their thundering and roaring, rattling and roaring, Thundering and roaring bombs. Gallant Nelson volunteer’d himself, with twelve sail form’d a line, And in the Road of Copenhagen he began his grand design; His tars, with usual courage, their valour did display, And destroy’d the Danish navy upon that glorious day. With their, etc. With strong floating batteries in van and rear we find, The enemy in centre had six ships of the line— At ten that glorious morning the fight begun, it’s true; We Copenhagen set on fire, my boys, before the clock struck two. With their, etc. When this armament we had destroy’d, we anchor’d near the town, And with our bombs were fully bent to burn their city down; Revenge for poor Matilda’s wrongs our seamen swore they’d have; But they sent a flag of truce on board, their city for to save. With their, etc. For the loss of his eye and arm, bold Nelson does declare, The foes of his country not an inch of them he’ll spare; The Danes he’s made to rue the day that they ever Paul did join, Eight ships he burnt, four he sunk, and took six of the line. With their, etc. Now drink a health to gallant Nelson, the wonder of the world, Who, in defence of his country, his thunder loud has hurled; And to his bold and valiant tars who plough the raging sea, And who never were afraid to face the daring enemy. With their, etc.

On the second day of August, eighteen hundred and one, We sailed with Lord Nelson to the port of Boulogne, For to cut out their shipping, which was all in vain— To our great misfortune, they were all moored with chain. Our boats being well manned, by eleven at night, To cut out their shipping, not expecting they would fight; But the grape from their batteries so smartly did play, Nine hundred brave seamen killed and wounded did lay. We hoisted our colours, and boldly them spread, With the British flag flying at the royal mast-head; For the honour of England we will always maintain, While bold British seamen plough the watery main. Exposed to the fire of the enemy we lay, While ninety bright pieces of cannon did play; There many brave seamen then lay in their gore, And the shot from their batteries most smartly did pour. Our noble commander, with his heart full of grief, Used every endeavour to afford us relief; No ship could assist us, as well he did know, In this wounded condition we were toss’d to and fro. All you who relieve us, the Lord you will bless For relieving poor seamen in times of distress; May the Lord put an end to all cruel wars, Send peace and contentment to all British tars.

Good people all, I pray attend a most surprising story: ’Tis of an action on the main, that cover’d France with glory. ’Twas on the ninth day of July, from Cadiz post away Six sail o’ th’ line, and frigates three, to Algesiras Bay. For, kept by th’ English in blockade, the mighty Linois lay, With five large ships, a frigate too, in Algesiras Bay. These to relieve Moreno came, not to engage in fight, But to the port of Cadiz straight with them combine in flight. A fresh east wind rose on the twelfth—the French and Spaniards go, For Cadiz swift they sail, and take the Hannibal in tow. Now this same eastward gale, alas! brought on the English fleet, Who seem to wish for nothing more than enemies to meet. Five sail o’ th’ line the English had, a frigate and a brig— They came as if they did not care for France and Spain a fig. The night came on, and France and Spain were very much in fear, As stronger grew the eastern breeze, more English might appear. Hence they were puzzled what to do—that is, which way to fly— For what, indeed, are France and Spain when British tars are nigh! At length th’ allies heard cannon three, and fires saw far behind— They thought them English signals, so they push’d before the wind. Then they congratulate themselves that they were got together, And that they sail’d so very well beyond Old England’s tether. A conflagration soon they saw burst through the dark of night, Which seem’d to be their ships on fire—Oh! then how great their fright! Such their first thoughts; but soon they fear’d ’twas fire-ships of the foe: That was enough to urge their speed, and wondrous fast they go. No longer there could be a doubt, the foe has pass’d the Strait; Nay, they had reach’d the Gallic wake—there was no time to wait. The French at their maintop-mast-head had put the light to rally; But pull’d it down when th’ English came, lest they too near might sally. For well the wary Frenchmen knew, if they hold forth a light, It must have led the English on, to force them into fight. The night the French in anguish pass’d, because it did not show Whether some ships that were in sight were enemies or no. At length the day dispers’d their fears—a day it was most sweet; For why?—the French soon found themselves in midst of their own fleet. At five o’clock they heard a sound that did denote a fray, Which made the Frenchmen all rejoice they were so far away. The wind about eleven rose—four vessels came in view: They thought them friends, but found them foes, and then again they flew. The Formidable then they saw driving before the wind, As if she said, ‘The Devil take all those that are behind.’ At length the French with rapture found they need not fret and chafe, The foe they had escap’d and then anchor’d in Cadiz safe. And now to all our naval lads may Heav’n still give a blessing— And if defeat with glory clads, may France ne’er want a dressing!

Off Cape Finisterre lay the king’s ship La Loire, When a privateer foe Captain Maitland he saw. So a boat’s crew he sent with Spaniard to cope, Who was call’d L’Esperance, in plain English the Hope, Tho’ but a forlorn hope she prov’d for the foe, Made a prize by the boat’s crew and Lieutenant Yeo. Sing Yeo! Yeo! for ever! Yeo! Yeo! for ever! Pull away, pull away, pull pull away, With a hearty Yeo! Yeo! with a hearty Yeo! Yeo! ‘’Tis the birth of your king, boys,’ the captain he cried, ‘To crown it with victory then be your pride; Yes, the birth of your sovereign distinguish, in short, By planting his flag on yon proud Spanish fort.’ So the gallant boat’s crew volunteer’d all to go, To conquer or die with brave Lieutenant Yeo. Sing Yeo! Yeo! for ever, etc. Then Lieutenant Yeo, to his lasting renown, The fort he knock’d up and the Governor down. The Dons’ captur’d ensign wav’d over his head, And planted the flag of King George in its stead. Let the trumpet of fame then through all the world blow, To the glory of Britons and Lieutenant Yeo. Sing Yeo! Yeo! for ever, etc.

Arise, arise, brave Britons! Perform your loudest lays, And join me in a chorus To sing Britannia’s praise. Once more the hero of the Nile Did seek to make Britannia smile With another victory on the file— O brave Nelson! October, on the twenty-first, It being a glorious day, The combined fleets of France and Spain Were just off Cadiz Bay; Their ships in number thirty-three— And Nelson, when he did them see, Said, ‘Twenty then there is for me.’ O brave Nelson! The signal made for fighting, Cannon began to roar; Our ships in number twenty-seven, We shook the Spanish shore; And Nelson, on the deck so high, Aloud unto his men did cry, ‘We’ll conquer them, my lads, or die.’ O brave Nelson! He broke their line of battle, And struck the fatal blow; He blew some up into the air, And some he sent below. But then, with victory on his side, A fatal ball his life destroyed, He in the midst of glory died. O brave Nelson! When the hero brave was dying, And with his parting breath, He pray’d for England’s glory Till the moment of his death. ‘Farewell, my lads! My glass is run, This day must be my setting sun; But, Providence, thy will be done.’ O brave Nelson! The battle being over, Which was a bloody fray, We twenty of their finest ships From them did take away. Now, Bonaparte! boast no more To land upon our native shore, Lest you in pieces should be tore, Through brave Nelson. May Collingwood’s and Hardy’s Like Nelson’s fame resound, And all our force by land and sea With good success be crowned; May Britain’s trade and wealth increase, And wars and tumults ever cease, And may we have a lasting peace, Through brave Nelson.

Come all you gallant seamen that unite a meeting, Attend to these lines I am going to relate, And when you’ve heard them ’twill move you with pity, To hear how Lord Nelson he met with his fate; For he was a bold and undaunted commander, As ever did sail on the ocean so wide, He made both the French and the Spaniards surrender, By pouring always into them a broadside. Mourn, England, mourn, mourn and complain, For the loss of Lord Nelson who died on the main. One hundred engagements he had been in, sir, And ne’er in his life was he known to be beat, Tho’ he’d lost an arm, likewise a right eye, sir, No power on earth ever could him defeat. His age at his death it was forty and seven, And as long as I breathe his great praises I’ll sing, For the whole navigation to him was given, Because he was loyal and true to his king. Mourn, England, mourn, etc. Like an undaunted hero, exposed to the fire, He gave his command, on the quarter-deck stood, To hear of his actions you would much admire, To see the decks covered all with human blood. From aloft to below where he was commanding, All by a French gun he received a ball, And by the contents he got mortally wounded, And that was the cause of Lord Nelson’s fall. Mourn, England, mourn, etc. Then up steps the doctor in a very great hurry, And unto Lord Nelson these words he did say, ‘Indeed then, my lord, I am very sorry To see you here lying and bleeding this way.’ ‘No matter, no matter whatever about me, My time it has come—I am almost at the worst, But there’s my gallant seamen fighting so boldly, Discharge of your duty unto them all first.’ Mourn, England, mourn, etc. Then with a loud voice he called out to his captain, ‘Pray let me, sir, know how the battle does go, For I think our great guns continue to rattle, Though death is approaching I firmly do know.’ ‘The antagonist’s ship is gone to the bottom, Eighteen we have captur’d and brought them on board, Four more we have blown clean out of the ocean, And this is the news I have brought you, my lord.’ Mourn, England, mourn, etc. Come all you gallant seamen that unite in a meeting, Always let Lord Nelson’s memory go round, For it is your duty when you unite in a meeting, Because he was loyal and true to the crown. So now to conclude, and to finish these verses, Here’s God bless all seamen that speak for his good, May the heavens go with you, and ten thousand blessings Still rest on the fleet and brave Collingwood. Mourn, England, mourn, etc.

Though with tears we lament our great Nelson’s demise, Let the nation rejoice that more Nelsons arise; ’Twas Collingwood finish’d what the hero began, And brave was the conquest accomplished by Strachan. Hearts of oak, etc. The fourth of November, long famous in story, This year adds a ray to our national glory; For like Cæsar of old, our Cæsar might say, He came, saw, and conquer’d in the enemy’s bay. Hearts of oak, etc. The Phœnix transform’d, like a bird to decoy, Led the foe where she knew they would soon find employ; Only three days before, she had quitted her nest, To add a fresh Didon to her valorous crest. Hearts of oak, etc. Her consort Margarita, though first in the chase, Both at once pour’d their broadsides full butt in their face; The Cæsar, the Hero, and brave Courageux, With cannon and grape shot, soon buckled them to. Hearts of oak, etc. To bind the knot firmer, Namur had her share, By Æolus favor’d, and Revolutionnaire; Though brave their resistance, they fought in vain, For they seem’d, when they struck, mere wrecks on the main. Hearts of oak, etc. Safe moor’d at Plymouth, no more shall they wander, And fit for the line of a British commander; Then France, Spain, and Holland shall threaten in vain, While our tars fight and conquer again and again. Hearts of oak, etc.

Come, all you valiant heroes that sail upon the sea, Awhile give your attention to what I sing to thee: ’Tis of a famous battle that was fought upon the main, Where our brave British sailors fresh laurels they did gain, Between the Amethyst frigate—thirty-six guns had she, And as brave a crew, my boys, as ever sail’d the sea— And the Thetis, French frigate of fifty guns; I do declare, Such a hard engagement has not been known for many a year. At seven in the evening the battle it begun, And lasted many hours before that it was done. Great numbers there was wounded, a many too was slain, While the blood from off the decks did change the watery main. Three hours and twenty minutes we held this dreadful fray, We lasht her fast unto us, she could not get away; Many times they tried to board us, but we drove them back so fast— Altho’ they was so numerous, we made them yield at last. Then down she haul’d her colours, no longer could she fight; Our British tars they gave three cheers all at this noble sight. We took possession of her without any more delay, And sent her into Plymouth Sound then, my boys, straightway. Great store of artillery, ammunition too likewise, One thousand barrels of flour to our tars became a prize. She was bound out to Martinico, the truth I do declare, But in the night we met her and stopped her career. So now to conclude and to finish my song, Success to our noble tars that to the seas belong. Here is a health to Captain Seymour and all his valiant men! Whene’er they meet their enemies may they serve them so again.

Come, all you valiant Britons of every degree, Attend a few minutes, and listen unto me Concerning our brave sailors that sailed on the main, With courage so bold fresh laurels they did gain. Success to our sailors that sail on the sea, Who with Cockrane undaunted, whenever they’ve wanted, They’ll fight till they die, or gain the victory. It was in Basque Roads the fleet they did lay, At the sight of our shipping fill’d them with dismay, They skulk’d near the shore like cowardly curs, And dare not come out to face our brave British tars So success, etc. In the month of April, mind what I say, We resolv’d to try this fleet to destroy: We gave them three cheers before we set to, And galled them so sorely we made them cry ‘Morbleu!’ So success, etc. We poured in our shot and our rockets like hail, Till at length that their courage began for to fail. Some were taken and destroy’d, and some got on shore, The rest run up the harbour and would fight no more, So success, etc. This fleet from Brest Harbour some time ago got clear, And our brave British heroes soon after them did steer: We chas’d them to Basque Roads without fear or doubt, Tho’ so great was their number they dare not come out. So success, etc. So now, Master Boneyparte, cease for to brag, Till you build some more ships for to hoist your white flag Which so often has been beat by the lords of the main; And if they dare face them they’ll serve them so again. So success, etc.

You captains and commanders both by land and sea, O do not be hard-hearted, refrain from cruelty; It is of Jefferys the seaman, who, though not cast away, Was left upon a dismal rock, by his captain they say. Chorus. Think of Jefferys the seaman’s hard fate. For eight days and nights he in misery did remain, Without any food or nourishment himself for to sustain; Dejected, in a wretched state, his fate he did deplore, For some good Christian to convey him to his native shore. At length kind Providence gave ear unto his mournful strain: An American vessel to his assistance came; John Dennis’s humanity soon set him free, And very soon released him from his captivity. It really is surprising he could so cruel be Unto his fellow creature, lost to humanity And any Christian feeling; that such corrections there be, It is a pity such should have a command, either by land or sea. But now he is arrived unto Old England’s shore, And I think he is very much to blame to go to sea any more. The gentry pity his fate as his suffering he explores, He is glad to have the happy sight of his native land once more. His mother, in amazement, almost distracted run When she view’d the situation of her dear only son. Quite meagre and almost starving, with hunger and fatigue, This sight it caused his aged mother’s heart then for to bleed.

Ye Parliament of England, you Lords and Commons too, Consider well what you’re about, and what you’re going to do; You’re now to fight with Yankees, I’m sure you’ll rue the day You roused the sons of liberty in North America. You first confined our commerce, and said our ships sha’n’t trade; You next impressed our seamen, and used them as your slaves; You then insulted Rogers while ploughing o’er the main, And had not we declared war you’d have done it o’er again. You thought our frigates were but few and Yankees could not fight, Until brave Hull your Guerrière took and banished her from your sight. The Wasp then took your Frolic, we’ll nothing say to that— The Poictiers being of the line, of course she took her back. The next, your Macedonian, no finer ship could swim, Decatur took her gilt-work off, and then he sent her in. The Java by a Yankee ship was sunk, you all must know; The Peacock fine, in all her plume, by Lawrence down did go. Then next you sent your Boxer to box us all about, But we had an Enterprising brig that beat your Boxer out; We boxed her up to Portland and moored her off the town, To show the sons of liberty the Boxer of renown. The next upon Lake Erie, where Perry had some fun, You own he beat your naval force, and caused them for to run; This was to you a sore defeat, the like ne’er known before— Your British squadron beat complete—some took, some run ashore. There’s Rogers, in the President, will burn, sink and destroy; The Congress, on the Brazil coast, your commerce will annoy; The Essex, in the South Seas, will put out all your lights, The flag she waves at her mast-head—‘Free Trade and Sailors’ Rights.’ Lament, ye sons of Britain, far distant is the day When you’ll regain by British force what you’ve lost in America; Go tell your King and Parliament, by all the world ’tis known That British force by sea and land by Yankees is o’erthrown. Use every endeavour, and strive to make a peace, For Yankee ships are building fast, their navy to increase; They will enforce their commerce, the laws by heaven are made That Yankee ships in time of peace to any port may trade.

It oft-times has been told That the British seamen bold Could flog the tars of France So neat and handy, O! But they never met their match Till the Yankees did them catch,— Oh! the Yankee boy for fighting Is the dandy, O! The Guerrière, a frigate bold, On the foaming ocean roll’d, Commanded by proud Dacres, All the grandee, O! With as choice a British crew As a rammer ever drew,— They could flog the French men, two to one So handy, O! When this frigate bore in view, Says proud Dacres to his crew: ‘Come! clear the ship for action And be handy, O! To the weather-gage, boys, get her!’— And to make his men fight better Gave them gunpowder to drink Mixed with brandy, O! Then Dacres loudly cries, ‘Make this Yankee ship your prize,— You can in thirty minutes, Neat and handy, O! Twenty-five’s enough, I’m sure; And if you do it in a score I’ll treat you to a double share Of brandy, O!’ The British shot flew hot, Which the Yankee answered not Till they got within the distance They call handy, O! Now says Hull unto his crew: ‘Boys, let’s see what we can do!— If we take this boasting Briton We’re the dandy, O!’ The first broadside we poured, Came her mainmast by the board, Which made this lofty frigate Look abandoned, O’! Then Dacres shook his head, And to his officers he said, ‘Lord—I didn’t think these Yankees Were so handy, O!’ Our second told so well That their fore and mizen fell, Which doused the royal ensign Neat and handy, O! ‘By George!’ says he, ‘we’re done!’— And then fired a lee gun, While the Yankees struck up ‘Yankee doodle dandy, O!’ Then Dacres came on board To deliver up his sword, Loth was he to part with it, ’Twas so handy, O! ‘Oh! keep your sword,’ says Hull, ‘For it only makes you dull; Cheer up,—and take a little drink Of brandy, O!’ Come! fill your glasses full! And we’ll drink ‘To Captain Hull,’ And so merrily we’ll push about The brandy, O! John Bull may toast his fill! But let the world say what it will, The Yankee boy for fighting Is the dandy, O!

The Chesapeake so bold, Out of Boston, we’ve been told, Came to take the British frigate Neat and handy, O! All the people of the port They came out to see the sport, And the bands were playing ‘Yankee doodle dandy, O!’ The British frigate’s name, Which for the purpose came Of cooling Yankee courage Neat and handy, O! Was the Shannon—Captain Broke. All her crew were hearts of oak, And at fighting they’re allowed to be The dandy, O! Now before the fight begun, The Yankees with much fun, Said they’d take the British frigate Neat and handy, O! And after that they’d dine, Treat their sweethearts all with wine, And the band should play up ‘Yankee doodle dandy, O!’ We no sooner had begun Than from their guns they run, Though before they thought they worked ’em Neat and handy, O! Brave Broke he waved his sword, Crying, ‘Now, my lads, we’ll board, And we’ll stop their playing “Yankee doodle dandy, O!”’ We no sooner heard the word Than we all jumped aboard And tore down the colours Neat and handy, O! Notwithstanding all their brag O’er the glorious British flag, At the Yankee mizen-peak It looked the dandy, O! Here’s a health to Captain Broke, And all the hearts of oak, That took the Yankee frigate Neat and handy, O! And may we always prove That in fighting and in love, The true British sailor Is the dandy, O!

On board the Shannon frigate in the merry month of May, To watch the bold Americans off Boston lights we lay. The Chesapeake lay in harbour, a frigate stout and fine, Four hundred and forty men she had, her guns were forty-nine. ’Twas Captain Broke commanded us, a challenge he did write To the captain of the Chesapeake to bring her out to fight. Our captain says, ‘Brave Lawrence, ’tis not from enmity, But ’tis to prove to all the world that we rule on the sea. ‘Don’t think, my noble captain, because you have had success That British tars are humbled, not even in distress. No! we will fight like heroes our glory to maintain, In defiance of superior size and the number of your men.’ The challenge was accepted, the Americans came down, A finer frigate ne’er belonged unto the British crown. They brought her into action on the true British plan, Nor fired a shot till within hail—then they the fight began. Broadside for broadside then did yield a most tremendous roar, Like thunder it resounded, re-echoed from each shore. This dreadful firing lasted near a quarter of an hour; Then the enemy’s ship drove right aboard, their yards were locked in ours. Our captain went to their ship’s side to see how she did lie, When he beheld the enemy’s men who from their guns did fly. ‘All hands for boarding!’ now he cry’d; ‘the victory is sure. Come bear a hand, my gallant boys, our prize we’ll soon secure.’ Like lions then we rush’d on board, we fought them hand to hand, And tho’ they overnumbered us they could not us withstand. They fought in desperation, disorder, and dismay, And in about three minutes’ time were forced to give way. Their captain and lieutenant with seventy of the crew Were killed in this sharp action, and an hundred wounded too. The ship was taken to Halifax and the captain buried there, And the remainder of his crew as his chief mourners were. Have courage then, all British tars, and never be dismay’d, But put the can of grog about and drink success to trade, Likewise to gallant Captain Broke and all his valiant crew, Who beat the bold Americans and brought their courage to.

Come, all you valiant British tars, attend unto my theme. In eighteen hundred and fifteen this fact I will proclaim: As we were cruising off New York, the night it being clear, Bold Mars to us a message sent an enemy was near. On January fifteen, just by the dawn of day, We ’spied a Yankee frigate that just had put to sea. To her our squadron soon gave chace, but all soon dropt behind, Except the bold Endymion, who flew before the wind. It was a handsome chace, my boys, as ever yet was seen, Each man stood to his quarters, for victory was keen; When, about the hour of four o’clock, long tom began to tell, With her we soon came up, brave boys, our ship could sail so well. Their Commodore Decatur all hands on deck did call, Saying, ‘Be of good courage, their vessel’s very small; Besides, we have two men to one—so, boys, be not asleep, For in less than ten minutes we’ll sink her in the deep.’ But soon he found his great mistake—at five o’clock at night We gave to them three daring cheers, and began the bloody fight. This was their boasted frigate, in her they did confide, But soon the bold Endymion pull’d down their Yankee pride. Two hours and forty minutes, with courage void of fear, This bloody fight we did maintain and swept her decks so clear. When she haul’d down her colours our valiant captain cries, ‘Well done, well done, my brave boys, the President’s our prize!’ We had twenty kill’d and wounded—thank God we had no more— Whilst one hundred of those Yankees lay weltering in their gore, And more than twenty wounded, most grevious was their cries, Their bitter moans and dying groans did rend the very skies. The President she was well manned, five hundred was her crew; Three hundred and forty the Endymion were, ’tis true; Yet, nurs’d in the lap of victory, those Yankees did despise, For we were all bold British tars and stout courageous boys. A curious observation, twelve months that day were spent Since this proud Yankee commodore a challenge to us sent. We joyfully accepted it, British honour to [de]fend, But our commodore would not permit, nor yet the same commend. Full sore it grieved bold Captain Hope that contest to decline, But now he may exult and say, ‘Decatur, you are mine; I long’d to meet you on this coast and sought you with much toil, And since I have you snug on board, I’ll shew you British soil.’ This action we’ll record in the annals of British fame, Her sixty-three to forty-eight it was unequal game. Since we left Plymouth Harbour in eighteen hundred and thirteen, All along the Yankee coast we have thirty prizes ta’en. Bold Captain Hope commanded us, his praises we’ll proclaim, To him the greatest honour’s due, he merits British fame. ‘Be silent, men!’ was all his cry. ‘Bring all your guns to bear, And do not fire one shot in vain; both round and grape prepare.’ It would take the quill of Homer or Virgil to indite The valour of our officers display’d upon that night: Our undaunted first lieutenant, bold Morgan of renown, Mr. Garson, Mr. Ormon, bold Fanshaw and Yeaman. But on the seventeenth, brave boys, at twelve o’clock at night We lost our fore and main mast, to us a doleful sight; To see us in this dreadful gale an adamant heart would weep, Our quarter-deck and forecastle guns we plunged in the deep. But soon we rigged our jurymast when that the gale was o’er, The weather it came fine and clear, the billows ceas’d to roar; But soon another gale arose, which lasted three whole days, In the Gulph Stream we were toss’d about, tremendous were the seas. Our prize she was dismasted and much injury sustain’d; Thank God she’s now arrived safe, the anchorage she’s gain’d. Thus kind Heaven protected us, all dangers we surviv’d, For now in sweet Bermuda our ship and she’s arriv’d. Now let Commodore Decatur and all his Yankee crew Write home to cowardly Madison what British tars can do, Whilst our trophies we’ll bring home unto the British shore, And cans of grog we’ll pledge, my boys, now tempests cease to roar. So fill to me a flowing bowl and let the toast go round: God prosper long bold Captain Hope, with laurels he is crown’d; Success to our bold officers and all our valiant crew, And may all British seamen their victories pursue.

Come all you thoughtless young men, a warning take by me, And never leave your happy homes to sail the raging sea, For I have ploughed the raging main this twenty years or more, But now I’m turned adrift to starve upon my native shore. When war at first assail’d us I quickly left my trade, Our country was in danger, I flew to lend my aid. And in my country’s service, long, long fatigues I bore, But now I’m turned adrift to starve upon my native shore. By storms and raging tempest shipwreck’d three times I’ve been, And many a bloody battle upon the seas I’ve seen; I’ve seen the cannon’s glaring flash, I’ve heard its murderous roar, Tho’ now I’m turned adrift to starve upon my native shore. The British seaman’s valour to all the world is known, We conquer still where’er we go, the action is our own. The meteor flag of England triumphantly we bore; But now we are turned adrift to starve upon our native shore. Should hostile fleets e’er venture upon the raging main, True hearts of oak we British Tars we’ll push to sea again; And bravely bring their ships to port as we have done before. So help us now while we’re in want upon our native shore. Come pity, ye gentle strangers, a luckless British Tar, In your defence he yet may hurl the thunderbolts of war. Come lend some kind assistance, and heaven will bless your store, For now I’m turned adrift to starve upon my native shore.

It is of a fine Frigate, dare not mention her name; And in the West Indies she bore great fame, For cruel hard usage in every degree, Like slaves in a galley we plough the salt sea. At four in the morning the game is begun, To the cock-pit the waisters for buckets must run; For fore and main topmen so loud they do bawl, For sand and for stones both large and small. O Master Make-clever, you know very well, He comes upon deck and cuts a great swell; It’s ‘bear a hand here, boys,’ and ‘bear a hand there,’ And in the lee gangway he takes a broad sheer. Half a dozen he starts, and so he goes on; You’re sure of a hiding, boys, every one; For soldier or sailor he cares not a damn, But he’ll hide you as long as you’re able to stand. Our decks being wash’d and our sheets being home, Stand by your hammocks, boys, every one; Seven turns with your lashings so equal must show, And all of a size, boys, and through the hoop go. Our hammocks being stowed, and our breakfast done, We’re ranked in divisions with our white hats all on; With our speeguls and lashings so black they must shine, With our white frocks and trousers we must all be a line. Our division officer then takes his round, Not a hole nor a spot on your clothes must be found; For an hour or more in this form we must be, Our ropes they are flemished either in harbour or at sea. Our divisions being over, the next thing comes on, Jack o’ Clubs he is calling for swabs in his song; Three or four dry swabs each cook they must find, And the bright iron hoops on our mess-kids must shine. There is pulling and hauling all the four hours round, On deck or below there’s no peace to be found; Either paint room, or store room, you’re sure for to clear, To find out what blacking or paint is to spare. Pass the word for the painters, fore and aft is the cry, Neither booms nor gangway I would have you draw nigh, Nor yet in the ports I would have you be found, For six dozen or more to your name will go round. Our boarding pikes and cutlasses are bright as the sun, Our shot racks are copper, boys, every one; Our pumelins and hand spikes and belaying pins also, With our bright iron staunchions we cut a fine show. Neither combings or hatchway I’d have you go near, From the bell or cook’s funnel I’d have you keep clear; Nor yet in the galley I’d have you to go, For a black thunder squall will take you in tow. Now, my brave boys, comes the best of the fun, All hands to make sail, going large is the song; From under two reefs in our topsails we lie, Like a cloud in the air in an instant must fly. There’s topsails, top-gallant sails, staysails also, There’s stunsails on both sides aloft and below, There’s royals, and skysails, stargazers so high, By the sound of one pipe everything it must fly. Now, my brave boys, comes the best of the fun, It’s hands about ship and reef topsails in one; Our hands go aloft when the helm it goes down, Lower away topsails when the mainyard goes round. Trice up and lie out, and take two reefs in one, In a moment of time all this work must be done; Man your head braces, your haulyards, and all, And hoist away topsails when it’s let go and haul. As for the use of tobacco, all thoughts leave behind; If you spit upon deck then your death warrant’s signed If you spit overboard either gangway or stern, You are sure of six dozen by the way of no harm. But worse than all this, I have known them to stop A week’s wine or grog if you spill but one drop; Either forward or aft I would have you keep clear, Or the bell, or cook’s funnel, will fall to your share. Come, all brother seamen, wherever you be, From all fancy frigates I’d have you keep clear; Take compassion all on us, and never forget, Those poor pipe-clay rangers so called of late.

Come all you who delight in a frolicksome song, Concerning the Scylla it will not keep you long; Concerning the Scylla, a ship of great fame, She had the Bahama station, and bore a great name. At four in the morning the work it came on, For sand and for holy stones loud was the song; For fore and main topmen loud was the call, For sand and for holy stones both great and small. The next thing to divisions your hammocks you bring, You must have them as snug and as round as a ring; With your lanyards and lacings, all made up so neat, Or to carry them all day on our shoulders was our fate. There is someone we know well, a British old Turk, Would go creeping and snarling as the men were at work; ‘Hurrah! bear a hand, men, or you I’ll report:’ Then he’d walk you on the carpet like a prisoner at court. Two bells in the evening—’twas the drummer once more— Beat all hands to quarters with your bayonets and swords. ‘Cast loose, clear for action,’ our lieutenant cries, With the rest of good drilling and much exercise. After quarters was over, there was one thing more, All hands to reef top sails, which grieved us full sore; ‘Men, man the rigging,’ our lieutenant would cry, Rise up, and lay out your reef points to tie. In less than two minutes our top sails must be reef’d, All sail set above them so snug and complete; For black-listing and drilling grieved us to the heart, For our six-watered grog it just measured one quart. As we lay in Providence so neat and so clean, With scraping and painting we did take great pains; With scraping and scouring from morning ’till night, It was swabbing, dum-scraping that was their delight. We ranged them Bahamas by night and by day, Every creek and every island like a lion for his prey; In search of those slave ships it was our intent, ’Till at last came to Nassaw, where our relief was sent. Very soon for Port Royal we then did make sail, Favoured by Neptune and a sweet, pleasant gale; When we arrived there, what grieved us full sore, We were ordered on the Spanish main for two months or more. But now we are arrived in England once more, How our spirits did rise, glad to see our own shore; Our friends and relations they came in our sight, For fear of them entering, their look-out was bright. But now my song is ended, I have no more to say, But our saucy little Scylla she carried the sway; For in reefing and furling she was always the best, Throughout the West Indies, for we had scarce any rest.

Come, all you seamen, stout and bold, and listen to my song, It’s worth your whole attention, I’ll not detain you long. Chorus. Then let us sing the Vanguard’s praise, proclaim her valiant name, Cruel usage I have met with since I sail’d in the same. Concerning of the Vanguard, a ship of noble fame, With her r—— commander, Mickey Walker call’d by name. At four o’clock you must turn out, the decks to holystone; One and all you must go down upon your marrow bones. Then Mr. Croycraft comes on deck, and he’ll begin to curse and swear; Both watches of gunners send up on deck to see your lashings are all square. At eight o’clock it’s up top-gallant yards, to the mast-head you must run, And if you are not the first ship, your name is taken down. Then down from the mast-head to the gangway you must repair, And there is the gratings rigged ready to punish you there. And when on shore by leave you go, if beyond your time you stay, Then you are put on the stage party for the space of sixty days. Then next you’re put in chokey, boys, you get both thin and white; And if you break your liberty, scrub copper from morning till night. But if you are in the black list, as true as I’m a sinner, Then you must polish brass-work while the crew are at their dinner. But if a fighting you do go, you’ll never get any rest; They will drive you off the lower deck, in the galley for to mess. And when you are in the galley mess, your heart is fill’d with woe; Your monthly money it is stopt, on shore you must not go. Now, you seamen of the Vanguard, you had better not get drunk; You will be laid upon your back, and they’ll use the stomach pump. If your hammock it is dirty, and you know no reason why, Then you must scrub it in the head, carry it on a boat-hook to dry. There’s a man on our lower deck, he is called Jondy Cross; If I had my will of him, I’d overboard him toss. But when on shore the bully comes, if with him you should fall in, The w——e that gives to him a drubbing shall have a gown and a gallon of gin. So now to conclude, and finish my song; I am a saucy mizen-top man, to the Vanguard does belong. But if to sea I go again, I’d sooner swing in a halter, Before I’d sail in any ship commanded by Mickey Walker.

’Twas at the landing place that’s just below Mount Wyse, Poll leaned against the sentry’s box, a tear in both her eyes: Her apron twisted round her arms, all for to keep them warm, Being a windy Christmas Day, and also a snow-storm. And Bet and Sue Both stood there too, A-shivering by her side; They both were dumb, And both look’d glum As they watched the ebbing tide. Poll put her arms a-kimbo: At the admiral’s house look’d she; To thoughts before in limbo, She now a vent gave free. You have sent the ship in a gale to work, On a lee-shore to be jammed; I’ll give you a piece of my mind, old Turk: Port Admiral, you be damned. Chorus. We’ll give you a piece of our mind, old Turk: Port Admiral, you be damned. Whoever heard in the sarvice of a frigate made to sail On Christmas Day, it blowing hard, with sleet, and snow, and hail? I wish I had the fishing of your back that is so bent, I’d use the galley poker hot, unto your heart’s content. Here Bet and Sue Are with me too, A-shivering by my side; They both are dumb, And both look glum, And watch the ebbing tide. Poll put her arms a-kimbo: At the admiral’s house looked she; To thoughts that were in limbo, She now a vent gave free. You’ve got a roaring fire, I’ll bet: In it your toes are jammed; Let’s give him a piece of our mind, my Bet: Port Admiral, you be damned! Chorus. Let’s give him a piece of our mind, my Bet: Port Admiral, you be damned. I had the flour, and plums all picked, and suet all chopped fine, To mix into a pudding rich, for all the mess to dine: I pawn’d my ear-rings for the beef, it weighed at least a stone: Now my fancy man is sent to sea, and I am left alone. Here’s Bet and Sue Who stand here too, A-shivering by my side; They both are dumb, They both look glum, And watch the ebbing tide. Poll put her arms a-kimbo: At the admiral’s house look’d she; To thoughts that were in limbo, She now a vent gave free: You’ve got a turkey, I’ll be bound, With which you will be crammed; I’ll give you a bit of my mind, old hound: Port Admiral, you be damned. Chorus. We’ll give you a bit of our mind, old hound: Port Admiral, you be damned. I’m sure that in this weather they cannot cook their meat: To eat it raw on Christmas Day will be a pleasant treat; But let us all go home, girls; it’s no use waiting here: We’ll hope that Christmas Day to come they’ll have a better cheer. So Bet and Sue, Don’t stand here too, A-shivering by my side; Don’t keep so dumb, Don’t look so glum, Nor watch the ebbing tide. Poll put her arms a-kimbo: At the admiral’s house look’d she; To thoughts that were in limbo, She now a vent gave free. So while they cut their raw salt junks, With dainties you’ll be cramm’d; Here’s once for all my mind, old hunks: Port Admiral, you be damned. Chorus. So once for all our mind, old hunks: Port Admiral, you be damned.

Oh! cruel were my parents to tear my love from me, And cruel were the press-gang that took him off to sea, And cruel was the little boat that row’d him from the strand, And cruel was the great big ship that sailed from the land. Sing too rol lo, etc. Oh! cruel was the water that bore her love from Mary, And cruel was the fair wind that would not blow contrary; And cruel was the captain, the boatswain and the men, Who didn’t care a farthing if we ever met again. Oh! cruel was the splinter to break my deary’s leg, Now he’s obliged to fiddle, and I’m obliged to beg: A vagabonding vagrant, and a rantipoling wife, We fiddle, limp, and scrape it, thro’ the ups and downs of life. Oh! cruel was th’ engagement in which my true love fought, And cruel was the cannon-ball that knock’d his right eye out; He us’d to leer and ogle me with peepers full of fun, But now he looks askew at me, because he has but one. My love he plays the fiddle, and wanders up and down, And I sing at his elbow thro’ all the streets in town. We spend our days in harmony, and very seldom fight, Except when he’s his grog aboard, and I get queer at night. Then ladies all take warning by my true love and me, Tho’ cruel fate should cross you, remember constancy; Like me you’ll be rewarded, and have your heart’s delight, With fiddling in the morning, and a drop of gin at night.

Oh! cruel was thy parents that envied our love, And cruel was the press-gang that gave me such a shove, That took me head and heels and put me in a sack, And to the water side one took me on his back. Singing too rol loo rol, etc. I thought I was to die, so I began to pray, ‘Why hang your lazy hide,’ one unto me did say, ‘If you don’t hold your clack I’ll throw you overboard.’ I thought to my dear Poll I shall never be restor’d. They soon a sailor made me with their cuffs and whip, I never lik’d their notions, I so often had to strip. The enemy appear’d. Oh! dreadful was the sight, The tarry lads so cheerfully preparing for the fight. The captain loudly bawling every man to his gun, I tried to skulk away, thinking I had none; But I very soon found out my skulking would not do, For an officer with sword in hand would quickly run me through. I waddled to the deck, but I rolled like an egg, When there came a whacking cannon-ball and took away my leg. I tumbled on my back and vented forth a sigh, When a bullet in a twinkling knock’d out my poor right eye. So from the cruel wars I am safe at home again, And by my fiddling a livelyhood obtain, And now you have proved true how happy shall we be— We’ll pass the days and nights in love and harmony. Tho’ cruel was my fortune I haven’t lost the way Of getting grog at night by fiddling all the day; And tho’ I am depriv’d by a cruel cannon-ball, She’d rather have me as I am then ne’er a man at all.

William was a youthful lover, William lov’d a lady fair; Bells did ring and birds did sing, As to the church they did repair. Then came twenty brisk young sailors, Drest in grand and rich array; Instead of William being married, Prest he was and sent away. Soon his true love follow’d after, By the name of William Carr; Her soft hands and milk-white fingers, All were smear’d with pitch and tar. Now behold the first engagement, Bold she fought among the rest; Her jacket open, void of danger, All expos’d her snow-white breast. When the captain came to hear it, He said, ‘What wind has brought you here?’ ‘Kind sir, I came to find my true love, Him you prest I love so dear.’ ‘If that you came to find your true love, Tell to me his name, I pray?’ ‘Brave sir, they call him William Taylor, Him you prest and forc’d away.’ ‘If William Taylor is your true love He is both cruel and severe, For rise up early in the morning You shall see him and his lady fair. ‘For he some days ago was wedded And lives upon the Isle of Man, And with his beauteous bride has bedded A truth that none deny it can.’ Then she rose early in the morning, Early by the break of day, There she saw sweet William Taylor Walking with his lady gay. She call’d quickly for a pistol, It was brought at her command; Strait she shot sweet William Taylor, With the same soon out of hand. When the captain saw the wonder Which the maiden fair had done, He instantly made her lieutenant Of the gallant Thunder Bomb.

Billy Taylor was a gay young fellow, Full of mirth, and full of glee; And his heart he did diskiver To a lady fair and free. Fol lol etc. Four-and-twenty stout young fellows, Clad they were in blue array, Came and press’d young Billy Taylor, And forthwith sent him to sea. Fol lol, etc. Soon his true love follow’d arter, Under the name of Richard Carr; And her lily white hands she daub’d all over With the nasty pitch and tar. Fol lol, etc. When they came to the first engagement, Bold she fit amongst the rest, Until a cannon-ball cut her jacket open, And diskivered her lily white breast. Fol lol, etc. When the captain com’d for to hear on’t, Says he ‘Vat vind has blown you here?’ Says she ‘I come to seek for my true love, Whom you press’d, and I love so dear.’ Fol lol, etc. ‘If you come to seek for your true love, Tell unto me his name, I pray?’ ‘His name, kind sir, is Billy Taylor, Whom you press’d, and sent to sea.’ Fol lol, etc. ‘If his name is Billy Taylor, He’s both cruel and severe; For rise up early in the morning, And you’ll see him with a lady fair.’ Fol lol, etc. With that she ros’d up in the morning, Early as by break of day; And she met her Billy Taylor Walking with a lady gay. Fol lol, etc. Forthwith she call’d for sword and pistol, Which did come at her command, And she shot her Billy Taylor, With his fair one in his hand. Fol lol, etc. When the captain com’d for to hear on’t, He werry much applauded her for what she had done; And quickly he made her the first lieutenant Of the gallant Thunder Bomb. Fol lol, etc.

In Cawsand Bay lying, The Blue Peter flying, And all hands turned up for the anchor to weigh; There came a young lady, As fresh as a May day, And modestly hailing, this damsel did say: ‘I want my young man, there, Do you hear! bear a han’ there, To hoist me on board, or to send him to me; His name’s Henry Grady, And I am a lady Come off to prevent him from going to sea.’ The captain, his honour, When he looked upon her, Ran down the ship’s side for to help her aboard; Says he with emotion, ‘What son of the ocean Can thus be looked after by Helena Ford?’ The lady made answer: ‘That there is my man, sir, I’ll make him as fine and as free as a lord;’ ‘No, no,’ says the cap’n, ‘That can’t very well happen, I’ve got sailing orders; you, sir, stay on board.’ ‘Avast,’ says the lady, ‘Don’t you heed him, Henry Grady, He once was your captain, but now you’re at large; You shan’t stay aboard here, For all that man’s order;’ Then out of her bosom she hauled his discharge. Says the captain, says he now: ‘I’m blowed, but he’s free now’; Says Jack, ‘Let old Weatherface keep all my clothes;’ On shore then he steered her, And the lads they all cheered her, But the captain was jealous, and looked down his nose. Then she got a shore tailor To rig her young sailor In tight Nankin breeches, and a blue long-tailed coat; And he looked like a squire For all to admire, With a dimity handkerchief tied round his throat. And they had a house greater Than e’er a first-rater, With servants in uniform handing the drink; And a garden to go in Where the flowers was a-blowin’, The daisy, the buttercup, lily and pink. And he got education Quite fit for his station, For you know we are never too old for to learn; And his shipmates they found him, With his young ones around him, All chips of the old block, from the stem to the stern.

It was in the month of April, upon the fourteenth day, This expedition did embark to cross the raging sea; Our fleet being well prepared, our anchors we did weigh, To sail against the Burmese to show them British play. When we embark’d from Madras it grieved our hearts full sore, Our wives and children weeping as they sat on the shore, Crying, ‘Art thou gone and left us thy absence for to mourn, To languish on a foreign land awaiting thy return?’ We left the roads of Madras upon the sixteenth day; Each man being well prepared and eager for the fray, Our squadron form’d a brilliant line to shew a grand half-moon: With British colours flying, we sailed against Rangoon. When we were three days sailing, three sails appear’d in view; We fir’d off a signal gun, when quickly they lay to: Our commodore bore down on them, we followed him in line, But they proved to be some British troops awaiting us to join. Next to Port Cornwallis our course we then did steer, And hoisted all our stunsails without either dread or fear. The next thing that appear’d in view was the Calcutta fleet, Was lying there at anchor, all waiting us to meet. Our fleet being assembled (the sail was sixty-three) A signal gun for sailing was fired instantly; When out to sea we bore again, and sailed both night and day, And on the tenth of May, my boys, we anchor’d in their bay. It was early the next morning, the weather being fair, We weigh’d our anchors to the bows, and up the river did steer. The enemy commenced on shore to put us to the rout; But we upon the decks did stand, resolved to fight it out. The Lilly frigate led the way, when clouds of smoke did rise, The Leander sloop in company, which did our foes surprise; The Sophia brig and gun boats, their cannon loud did roar, Like thunder rent the elements all on the Burmese shore. ‘All hands prepare for landing!’ resounded through the fleet; ‘Let every man have sixty rounds his enemy for to meet.’ Like lions bold we rushed on shore at ten o’clock that day: These cowardly dogs could not us stand, we forced them to give way. Now Rangoon we have taken, let us drink unto our king; May all his loyal subjects fresh laurels to him bring. Likewise to General Campbell, who commanded on that day, And pull’d their saucy peacock down on the eleventh day of May.

Come listen awhile with attention, You seamen and landsmen likewise, While I of a hero will mention Which England, fam’d England, should prize. Bold Ross was our noble commander, His equal was ne’er seen before; But mark what us sailors went under When we sailed from Old England’s shore. We sail’d to the Pacific Ocean, Our hearts both undaunted and free, Bold Ross cheered us all with the notion That we should all prosperous be; But our mainmast was soon smashed to pieces While we hauled in the ship Fury’s store. Said Ross, ‘Now the tempest increases, ’Tis for honour of Old England’s shore.’ Long time in tempestuous weather, ’Midst rocks, ice and water were we; We were staunch, bold, and vowed to each other To die or the North Pole to see. Ross espied from the ship’s starboard quarter The land that did add to their store— Crying, ‘Look out, my boys, for fresh water, We’re far from Old England’s shore.’ Our hardships we bore, and were ready To follow our brave captain’s call, Who was bold, was undaunted but ready, His study alone was us all; While we roamed o’er the cold stormy regions, On wilds that were ne’er trod before, No cot, house, or church or religion, Like those upon Old England’s shore. You may talk about Parry and Cook, boys, Who tried these cold regions to find— Only a short trip they took, boys, Then left the bright magnet behind. Bold Ross left the British flag flying, Which no one could e’er do before, Then light-hearted, though nearly dying, Came with glory to Old England’s shore. ’Twas thought that no one since Creation Would find it until time did end; But King William’s name of this nation So proud on that magnet does bend. So build for bold Ross a fine pillar, And cast it with gold letters o’er; Bold Ross brav’d the wave, ice, and billow, In triumph reached Old England’s shore. This hero, the pride of our nation, Gained honour, likewise his ship’s crew; May they rise into dignity’s station For being undaunted and true. Bold Ross, as a pledge of honour, With the Lord Mayor of London did dine, And they gave him three cheers and a bumper, Drank to trade and to commerce in wine.

Come, all you old warlike liners, who boast of deeds of war Achieved by famous Nelson in the glorious days of yore, Hear what has happened lately along the Syrian coast: The downfall of the Egyptians, of which we made our boast. So here’s a health to brave Napier; to brave Napier huzza! Who conquered the Egyptians, and made them run away. On the first day of November, and forty was the year, The Wasp off St. Jean d’Acre arrived, as you may hear. That night we anchor’d in the bay, and lay there all the night; At half-past ten the following day, the squadron hove in sight. As they came in they anchor’d, and furl’d without more ado; But some of us kept under weigh, the Castor, Wasp, and Co. The next forenoon they all did weigh, (it was our admiral’s plan) To close with St. Jean d’Acre; the Powerful led the van. We took up our positions, abreast of Acre town, Determin’d, if they’d not give in, to knock their ramparts down. A flag of truce was then sent in, but they refused to treat Or come to any peaceful terms with this gallant British fleet. At half-past two that afternoon the action did begin: Our shot and shell swift flew like hail, the ramparts soon fell in; The flagship and the Powerful showed them smart British play, Against the noble Benbow’s fire the Egyptians could not stay. The Castor acted well her part: the foe strove hard to shake her, But rather hot she sent her shot ’gainst the forts of St. Jean d’Acre. The Edinburgh and Revenge, the Carysfort and Pique, The Hazard and the Talbot made them think of quick retreat. The saucy Thunderer that day poured forth her British thunder, Knowing well it was the surest way to make her foes knock under. Besides, four steamers fit for war were there, I am proud to tell; They harassed well our enemy with death-conveying shell. The warlike brave Bellerophon is worthy of her name; For as she ranged up to the forts she poured forth smoke and flame. Austrian frigates and the Turks, although in number few, By Britons led they did their best—great praise to them is due. Then comes the little stinging Wasp, her weight in gold she’s worth; For under the walls of Acre she took a liner’s berth: As close as ever she could get, her captain strove to take her, And sprung her broadsides to the forts, and stung poor St. Jean d’Acre. That afternoon, at four o’clock, we heard a dreadful roar: Each vessel trembled at the shock, each eye was turned on shore. One of their magazines blew up, it was an awful sight; Death made an awful conquest there, the heavens were black as night. The poor Egyptians, paralysed, scarce knew what course to take, And after five they all began their quarters to forsake: A general terror soon was spread throughout the shattered town; They confess’d us British conquerors and haul’d their colours down.

Come, all you jolly sailors bold, the truth you soon shall know Concerning of a glorious fight on the Isle of Borneo. As we were cruising off the coast we heard the dreadful news How the pirates they had massacred our merchants’ crews. Huzza! huzza! huzza! huzza! with Captain Talbot, boys, we’ll die or win the day! The news it flew like lightning, from ship to ship it ran: Admiral Cochrane gave the word, brave Talbot led the van; And soon we manned all our boats, and down the river flew. Brave Talbot he commanded us with all the vessel’s crew. Huzza, etc. When we came up to the boom we found it so secure, The cannon from their batteries on us poor lads did pour; But soon we cut our way through, like lions sprang on shore, And soon five hundred pirates lay bleeding in their gore. Huzza, etc. While they were bleeding in their gore we rushed into their town, And there the produce of many a gallant ship we found; For plunder and distribution, boys, it was our whole intent: In one hour and twenty minutes the town to ashes sent. Huzza, etc. When we returned to our admiral and told him the glorious news, ‘Three cheers, my boys, for England, and all the gallant crews!’ So we’ll drink to Admiral Cochrane, and gallant Talbot too, The officers of the squadron, and all the vessel’s crew. Huzza, etc. Now we have returned to England, to let our friends all know How we destroyed the pirates on the coast of Borneo; For we left the flag of England by all nations to be seen: And for our reward we’ll boldly go, boys, to our gracious Queen. Huzza, etc.

Set every stitch of canvas to woo the fresh’ning wind; Our bowsprit points to Cuba, the coast lies far behind. Filled to the hatches full, my boys, across the seas we go; There’s twice five hundred niggers in the stifling hold below. ‘A sail! What say you, boys? Well—let him give us chase A British man-of-war you say—well, let him try the race; There’s not a swifter vessel ever floated on the waves Than our tidy little schooner well ballasted with slaves.’ Now stronger yet and stronger still came down the fiery breeze, And ever fast and faster sped the strange ship on the seas, Flinging each rude and bursting surge in glittering haloes back, And bearing high to heaven aloft the English Union Jack! ‘Now curses on that ensign,’ the slaving captain said; ‘There’s little luck for slavers when the English bunting’s spread. But pack on sail and trim the ship; before we’ll captured be We’ll have the niggers up, my boys, and heave them in the sea.’ Hoarse was the slaving captain’s voice, and deep the oath he swore: ‘Haul down the flag; that’s shot enough, we don’t want any more.’ Alongside dashed the cruiser’s boat to board and seize the prize. Hark to that rattling British cheer that’s ringing to the skies! ‘Up, up with the negroes speedily; up, up, and give them breath; Clear out the hold from stem to stern: that noisome den is death; And run aloft St. George’s Cross, all wanton let it wave, The token proud that under it there never treads a slave.’

What can we luckless sailors do? no fun comes to our share; The enemy keeps out of view—to meet us they won’t dare! In vain our pennants fly so gay, our cruisers roam about, We might as well in Portsmouth lay—the Russians won’t come out! In Helsingfors they lay quite close; ’neath Cronstadt mole they crowd; They’ll not come out and meet the foes whom once they dared so loud. Like to some worn-out batter’d hulk each gallant ship so stout Behind the batteries does skulk—the cowards won’t come out! The Arrogant and Hecla, too, gave them a lesson rough; Tho’ fighting to our lads was new they proved both smart and tough; They strewed the ground with soldiers gay, their batteries knocked about, And brought their merchant ships away, yet still they won’t come out! While in the Baltic we deplore our idle time at sea, Our comrades on the Turkish shore are as badly off as we. Though many ships they’ve made their own, ta’en many a strong redoubt, And batter’d half Odessa down, the Russians won’t come out! That mighty man, Prince Menschikoff, in harbour still does lie, And at the Allied Fleets does scoff as they are sailing by. ‘Don’t think,’ says he, ‘that I’m a fool, a valiant, headstrong lout; I’m safe and snug in Sebastopol, and be hanged if I’ll come out.’ Oh! would they but their anchors weigh and boldly put to sea, With joy to see a sight so gay how full each heart would be; But oh! such wishes are in vain: they know there’s little doubt, They never would get in again if once they venture out.

We’re the boys that fear no noise Whilst thundering cannons roar, And long we’ve toiled on the rolling wave, And now we’re safe on shore. Don’t forget your old shipmate, Fol de rol. Since we sailed from Plymouth Sound, Four years gone, to-night, Jack, Were there ever chummies known, Such as you and I, Jack? Don’t forget, etc. We have served the self-same gun, Quarter-deck division, Sponger I, and loader you, Through the whole commission. Don’t forget, etc. Oftentimes have we laid out, Toil nor danger fearing, Hauling out the flapping sail To the weather ear-ring. Don’t forget, etc. When the middle watch was on, And the time went slow, boy, Who could tune a rousing stave, Who like Jack or Joe, boy? Don’t forget, etc. There she swings an empty hulk, Not a soul below now; Number seven, starboard mess, Misses Jack and Joe now. Don’t forget, etc. But the best of friends must part, Fair or foul the weather; Tip us your flipper for a shake, Now a drink together; And don’t forget your old shipmate, etc.