Come all ye jolly sailors bold,
Whose hearts are cast in honour's mould,
While England's glory I unfold,
Huzza to 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 fam'd _Belle Poule_ straight ahead did lie,
The _Arethusa_ seem'd to fly,
Not a sheet, or a tack,
Or a brace did she slack,
Tho' the Frenchman laugh'd, and thought it stuff,
But they knew not the handful of men, so 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," said 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 their strand;
For we fought till not a stick would stand
Of the gallant _Arethusa_.
And now we've driven the foe ashore,
Never to fight with Britons more,
Let each fill a glass
To his favourite lass!
A health to our captain, and officers true,
And all that belong to the jovial crew,
On board of the _Arethusa_.