Chapter XXXI: The Arethusa

Come, all ye jolly sailors bold,
Whose hearts are cast in honour’s mould,
While English glory I unfold,
Huzza for the _Arethusa_!
She is a frigate tight and brave,
As ever stemmed 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 cruise about,
When four French sail, in show so stout
Bore down on the _Arethusa_.
The famed _Belle Poule_ straight ahead did lie,
The _Arethusa_ seemed to fly,
Not a sheet, or a tack,
Or a brace, did she slack;
Though the Frenchmen laughed 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 hailed 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 forced them back upon their strand,
For we fought till not a stick could stand
Of the gallant _Arethusa_.
And now we’ve driven the foe ashore
Never to fight with the Britons more,
Let each fill his glass
To his fav’rite lass;
A health to our captain and officers true,
And all that belong to the jovial crew
On board of the _Arethusa_.

_Prince Hoare._

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