Chapter XII: Part 12

May Charon be careful and ferry him o’re
To Pluto’s grand court on the Stygian shore:
May ten thousand furies still on him attend,
To plague and torment him unto the world’s end:
While each jolly sailor, to make themselves merry,
Shall take a full glass, shall take a full glass,
to his passage o’er the ferry.

_THE SAILOR’S RESOLUTION TO FIGHT THE SPANIARDS._

_A New Song._

What ship, honest brother sailor? You must stop and let us know.
If you’re entered or protected, you must tell before you go.
Here’s our warrants to impress you. Ne’er repine, my noble blood;
We don’t mean for to oppress you; it’s for your king and country’s
good.

For to humble the proud Spaniards British courage must be shown,
Or those haughty proud villains will never know what is their own.
Their men-of-war we’ll make to rattle; Spain shall tremble at the
sight;
Haste, brave boys, away to battle; the French nor they could never
fight.

British courage should never be daunted at the talk of Spanish
war[s];
While that seamen they are want[ed] we’ll freely enter, like jolly
tars.
For to humble the proud Spaniards we’ll sail along so brave and true,
And make the Spaniards to knock under and the French cry out,
‘Morbleu.’

So come along, my jolly sailors, enter along with tars so true;
We are the men that fear no dangers, but soon will make the Spaniards
rue.
Success to all our brave commanders that do plough the raging main,
Likewise to our jolly sailors, for to conquer France and Spain.

_JACK TAR._

‘Come, brave, honest Jack Tar, once more will you venture?
Press warrants they are out; I would have you to enter.
Take some rich Spanish prize, as we’ve done before, O.’
‘Yes, and be cheated of them all, as we were the last war, O.’

‘No man that sails with me shall e’er be abused;
So, Jack, come and enter; you shall be well used.
You shall be boatswain’s mate, Jack; so boldly come and enter
And not like a dog be haul’d on board of the tender.’

‘Dear captain,’ he said then, ‘don’t talk of your pressing;
It’s not long ago since I gave six of them a dressing.’
‘I know that very well, Jack: the truth I must grant you;
You are a brave, hearty fellow, and that makes me want you.

‘Dear captain,’ he said then, ‘if the truth I do tell you,
I got so much the last war that it quite fill’d my belly;
For your damn’d rogues of officers they use men so cruel
That a man-of-war is worse than hell or the devil.

‘There is the master a-swearing, the boatswain a-growling,
The midshipman a-howling out, “Take that fore-bowling”;
If you speak but one word you’re a mutinous rascal,
Both your legs laid in irons and try’d by a court-martial.’

Now, boys, we are press’d away from our habitation,
And we leave wife and children in grief and vexation;
We venture our sweet lives in defence of our nation,
And we get nothing for it but toil and vexation.’

_THE JOLLY SAILOR’S TRUE DESCRIPTION OF A MAN-OF-WAR._

When first on board of a man-of-war
We go, whether by press or enter,
And alongside of our ship we come,
We boldly in her venture.
Such twigging then at we fresh men.
‘They’re clever fellows,’ some say,
While the buffers stand with their rattans,
Crying, ‘Keep down out of the gangway.’

Then aft upon the quarter-deck
We go, it being common;
Our officers examine us, to know
Who and who are seamen;
There’s some are seamen, some are freemen,
Some one thing, some another:
Then we down below on the main deck go,
Boys, after one another.

Next to old Trinculo we go
For an order to get our hammocks,
Then aft again and down amain,
Not forgetting our stomachs.
The steward pens, he takes our names,
And tells us to our messes;
But nipping there they can’t forbear,
For the Devil them possesses.

Then up again upon the deck,
So briskly, boys, we bundle;
Since we have secur’d our pack,
We have no cause to grumble.
Then we clap on what we heave upon,
Some piping, others singing:
There’s hoist away, likewise belay.
Thus we make a beginning.

When once our ship has got all in,
And nothing now neglected,
To think of sea we do begin,
Our orders soon expected.
Then with a career we get all clear,
In readiness for unmooring,
Boats alongside with wind and tide
To carry the women ashore in.

‘All hands, unmoor,’ the boatswain calls,
And he pipes at every hatchway;
If you Tom Cockswain’s traverse tip him
Take care he don’t catch you;
For without a doubt, if he finds you out,
You may be sure within you,
Over face and eyes, to your surprise
He’ll arm you without mercy.

The capstan is already mann’d.
Shall we hear the boatswain hollow?
Sometimes he is listening at a stand
To hear the answers follow.
We have not brought to, there’s such ado,
While some are calling the swabbers.
Now heave away without delay,
Boys, hold on the nippers.

The boatswain and his mates are piping,
Crying, ‘Men, have a rally,’
And often forward they are piking
To have a rout in the galley.
‘What are you about? Away with us out.’
To leave our victuals we abhor it;
With cuffs and knocks leave kettles and pots,
And the Devil cuff them for it.

‘Heave and in sight, men, heave away,’
From forward the boatswain is calling;
‘Heave a turn or two without delay;
Stand by the capstan for pealing.’
Then one and all to the catt do fall;
We haul both strong and able,
Till presently from forward they cry,
‘Below, stick out the cable.’

We cast our anchors then with speed,
And nimbly press the stoppers,
Then next to fish it we proceed,
Our shank-painter so proper,
Which we do pass securely fast,
And lap well on a seizing,
Our anchors, be sure, can’t be too secure;
It stands to sense and reason.

When once our ship she is unmoor’d
Our swelling sails so neatly,
With fore-tack and main-tack also,
Our sheets haul’d aft completely,
Then away we sail with a fresh gale,
On a voyage or on a station.
Like English hearts we’ll play our parts
In defence of the English nation.

The best cry we like to hear
On board, as I’m a sinner,
Is when from the quarter-deck they call
To the boatswain to pipe to dinner.
Such crowding then among the men:
Some grumble, others jangle;
You’re nobody there without you swear
And boldly stand the wrangle.

There’s green-horn fellows some on board
Before ne’er saw salt water;
When come to sea, upon my word,
The case with them does alter.
They better know how to follow the plow,
With good fat bacon and cabbage;
When sea-sick took like death they look,
Ready to bring up guts and garbage.

When stormy winds begin to blow
Our ship is in great motion;
To carry our victuals safe down below
It requires a good notion.
We often fall down the hatchway with all,
From the top to the bottom sprawling;
Such laughing then among the men,
And loudly the butcher calling.

There are snotty boys of midshipmen
Han’t done yet shitting yellow;
As to their age, some hardly ten
Strike many a brave fellow,
Who dare not prate at any rate,
Nor seem in the least to mumble;
They’ll frap you still, do what you will;
It is but a folly to grumble.

Now to conclude and make an end
In a full flowing brimmer;
Let every one drink to his friend;
The bowl it seems to look thinner.
We’ll drink again, like sons of men,
And drink bad luck to the purser;
He cheats us with ease of our oatmeal and pease:
Such rogues there can’t be worser.

_NEW SEA SONG._

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.

_THE HUMOURS OF THE ROYAL BILLY._

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.

_THE DOLPHIN’S RETURN._

(1768).

Tune, _The Lilies of France_.

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.

_THE BRAGS OF WASHINGTON._

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.

_ON THE LATE ENGAGEMENT IN CHARLES TOWN RIVER._

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.

_SULLIVAN’S ISLAND._

1776.

A NEW WAR SONG.

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.

[_THE CRUISERS._]

A NEW SONG, ADAPTED TO THE TIMES.

[To the Tune of _A Hunting we will go!_ = ‘_The Dusky Night_.’]

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._

_ON BOARD OF THE ‘ARETHUSA.’_

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_.

_THE GREENLAND MEN._

A excellent new song, composed by 18 Greenlandmen in the _Swan_ Tender hold in Leith Roads, June 2d, 17780 [_sic_].

To the Tune _We’ll go no more to Greenland in a ship that has
no guns_.

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._

_ADMIRAL KEPPEL TRIUMPHANT; OR, MONSIEURS IN THE SUDS._

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.

_KEPPEL AND DE CHARTRES._

A NEW SONG.

(1779.)

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.

_A NEW SONG IN PRAISE OF ADMIRAL KEPPEL’S FLEET._

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._

_ADMIRAL KEPPEL TRIUMPHANT._

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!’

_KEPPEL FOR EVER!_

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!

_A NEW SONG ON ADMIRAL BARRINGTON._

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_.

_PAUL JONES._

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.

_CAPTAIN FARMER._

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!

_THE BOLD BLADES OF OLD ENGLAND._

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 ROYAL SAILOR._

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._

_HOOD’S CONQUEST OVER THE COUNT DE GRASSE._

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.