But quickly two for one O we did them give:
But then at length they would no longer fight,
‘Our ships are a sinking’ for quarter they cry’d.
_Fal, etc._
We hoisted out our pinnace, went to them straitway,
We boarded two of their ships the very same day;
We brought all the prisoners on board our own ship,
Our hearts then within us began for to leap.
_Fal, etc._
Then we went to Kingsale, being the nearest place,
That we durst go to for to show our face:
Where we had good wine and punch in gollore,
And rum and brandy, boys, all in good store.
_Fal, etc._
_THE LUCKY SAILOR; OR THE SAILOR’S INVITATION TO GO WITH ADMIRAL ANSON._
Come jolly sailors, join with me,
Come jolly sailors, join with me,
To fight with Anson for renown,
That we the French pride may pull down!
We’ll take ’em all upon the seas;
We’ll take ’em all upon the seas;
We’ll make ’em strike where’er we meet,
Or serve ’em all as we’ve done these.
My boys, you heard what we have done, (_bis_)
Ten sail of men-of-war we took,
And made the merchant-men to run;
Our admiral he ordered then, (_bis_)
Three men-of-war to chase ’em all,
To sink and take whate’er they can.
The _Centurion_ first led the van, (_bis_)
And held ’em till we came up;
Then we their hides did sorely bang,
Our broadsides we on them did pour, (_bis_)
We gave the French a sower d[r]ench,
And soon their topsails made them lower.
And when they saw our fleet come up, (_bis_)
They for quarters call’d without delay,
And their colours they that moment struck
O! how we did rejoice and sing, (_bis_)
To see such prizes we had took,
For ourselves and for George our King.
O! now, my boys, I’m come on shore, (_bis_)
I’ll make you drink before we part;
Such luck I never had before.
Here is a health to those brave men, (_bis_)
That did command this noble fleet,
Bold Anson and brave Warren.
My boys our prizes is arrived, (_bis_)
Which when the people they did see,
It did their very hearts revive.
With joy and mirth we spent the night, (_bis_)
In drinking loyal healths all round,
It was such a welcome sight.
Our ships are all a fitting up, (_bis_)
Again with Anson we will go,
I wish we may have but good luck.
My boy, I’d have you to go too, (_bis_)
For Anson is a lucky man,
Where’er he comes he makes ’em rue.
This is the second time you’ve seen (_bis_)
The waggon loads of money come,
And all taken by brave Anson.
Come now, my boys, drink off a glass; (_bis_)
Let’s not forget now we’re come home,
Each bold sailor’s pretty lass.
_TIT FOR TAT: A SEA KICK FOR A LAND CUFF._
Being the sailors’ song upon our having a Hawke’s eye on the French
fleet, the fourteenth of October last [1747].
1
Ring, ring out our bells! and to Calais from Dover
Let our cannons loud roar carry France the news over,
That the balance of land and sea war we’ve brought home,
And our prizes, at Portsmouth, pay their Bergen-opzoom.
So Huzzah! to King George, boys; long, long may he reign,
By the right of old England, long lord of the main!
_So Huzzah! to King George, etc._
2
Now hark! and you’ll hear (and with truth ’twill be told)
How the seas have been swept by his true hearts of gold:
In the month of October, to West Indies bound,
A fleet so becrowded with numbers we found,
Tho’ our ken could not count ’em, our first chasing gun
Observ’d ’em less forward to fight than to run.
_Tho’ our ken could not count ’em, etc._
3
All, all hands aloft, and away ’fore the wind,
Full sail sped their merchants, from convoys behind;
Yet, to do their tall ships the true honour we owe ’em,
Tho’ to beat was above ’em, to fly was below ’em.
But their cargoes, in danger, had no time to talk;
So like pigeons they flew from our bold British Hawk.
_But their cargoes, in danger, etc._
4
Now broadsides to broadsides, smash! thro’ and thro’ boring,
Made the sea seem a forest of lions all roaring!
But the _Severn’s_ bruised ribs felt our shot fly so sore,
That her loud fifty mouths never spoke a word more.
So silenc’d we left her, without more concern,
To be catch’d, as we saw, by our frigates astern.
_So silenc’d we left her, etc._
5
Of their _Trident_ our _Devonshire_ came alongside,
And souse! in her guts, such a dose did she hide,
That the rummaging pills almost work’d her to death,
For she soon, like the _Severn_, lay gasping for breath.
Then bounce! came their _Terrible_--foul on a _Tartar_;
But she too sung small, till she cry’d out for quarter.
_Then bounce! came their Terrible, etc._
6
Now shatter’d and batter’d (Morbleu! such a sight!)
Their _Thunder_ knock’d under, and stole off by night;
When six of their squadron, that scarcely could creep,
We lugg’d and tugg’d home, in our harbours to sleep.
And so large were their hulks, tho’ we ply’d ’em with rubbing,
To be sure their thick hides took a good deal of drubbing.
_And so large were their hulks, etc._
7
And now, the next year, when the prizes we’ve made
By our own hands are mann’d out, we’ll drive a French trade;
While the sea is our market, for squadrons we’ll barter,
And give for first rates only bullets and quarter!
So, Huzzah! to King George, boys; long, long may he reign,
By the right of old England, long lord of the main.
_So, Huzzah! etc._
8
While our salt water walls so begird us about,
And our cruisers, and bruisers, keep good looking out,
What force need old England to fear can offend her,
From France, or from Spain, or a Popish Pretender?
So, Huzzah! to King George, boys; long, long may he reign,
By the right of old England, long lord of the main.
_So Huzzah! etc._
_A NEW SONG ON ADMIRAL KNOWLS TAKING PORT LOUIS._
Tune of _Duke of Lorain and the Princess Royal_.
Let every loyal Briton sing
Prosperity to George our King;
He that refuses let him swing,
As many has done before him;
But I shall raise my chearfull voice,
Let Englishmen with me rejoice,
For valiant Knowls, huzza! brave boys,
The sailor does admire.
Hispaniola and Louis Port
Afforded Englishmen brave sport.
Brave news, brave news for the British Court,
Those places both are taken;
We’ve taken Pondicherry too.
Another scene appears in view:
Jago de Cuba soon must rue,
If I am not mistaken.
It is such valiant acts as these
That makes Mounsieur cry out for peace:
Morblue hostilities pray cease
And I’ll return all Flanders!
Let all true Britons fill their bowls,
A health to that hero Admiral Knowls,
A health to our Brittish sailors bold
That fought with this brave comander.
Another glass to the sailors brave
That with him such proofs of valour gave;
Confusion to the rebel slave
That does refuse to drink it!
Let all true Britons fill their bowls:
A health to hero Admiral Knowls,
A health to our British sailors bold
That fought with this brave commander.
_A NEW SONG._
Sung by HANNAH SNELL, alias JAMES GRAY, at the New-Wells _Goodman’s
Fields_.
Tune of _Come and listen to my Ditty, etc._
I.
All ye noble British spirits that midst dangers glory sought,
Let it lessen not your merit that a woman bravely fought:
Cupid slily first inroll’d me, Pallas next her force did bring,
Press’d my heart to venture boldly for my love and for my King.
II.
Sailorlike, to fear a stranger, straight I ventured on the main,
Facing death and every danger, love and glory to obtain;
Tell me, you who hear my story, what could more my courage move?--
George’s name inspired with glory, William was the man I lov’d.
III.
When from William Susan parted she but wept and shook her hand;
I, more bold (tho’ tender-hearted), left my friends and native land;
Bravely by his side, maintaining British rights, I shed my blood,
Still to him unknown remaining, watch’d to serve and do him good.
IV.
In the midst of blood and slaughter, bravely fighting for my King,
Facing death from every quarter, fame and conquest home to bring;
Sure you’ll own ’tis more than common, and the world proclaim it too,
Never yet did any woman more for love and glory do.
_THE LIGHTERMAN’S PRENTICE PREST AND SENT TO SEA._
A prentice I was at Wapping-new-stairs,
And a smart young lad was I;
But that old blackguard old W----d,
He inform’d, and had forty shillings for me.
It was on the last day of February,
In the year of fifty-five:
He had me taken out of bed;
When my friends heard it, lord! how they cry’d.
My mother and my cousin both
They on board of the tender came with speed,
And thro’ the grates to them I talk’d,
It was enough to make any heart to bleed.
My mother and my cousin both,
They in a boat did go ashore.
Then from the Tower we set sail,
For the _Yarmouth_ rideing at the Nore.
In happen’d on a Sunday morning
We arrived at the Nore;
The commodore fir’d his signal gun
For the women all to go ashore.
And when unto the ship I went,
They put me in a great surprize;
There I heard some swearing and some cursing,
And some damning their precious eyes,
To think that the commodore fir’d his signal
For all their wives to go ashore;
There was some crying and some sniffling,
Crying ‘My dear, I shall see you no more.’
Then from the Nore we did set sail,
And unto Spithead we was bound.
It was a pretty sight to see
The lasses lin’d round Portsmouth town.
Then from the _Yarmouth_ I was sent
On board of _Captain_, so-call’d by name;
There I fell sick on board of her,
And to Gosport hospital sent for the same.
There for three long months I stay’d,
And very bad I was indeed;
But I got well and away I went
On board of the _Captain_ with speed.
I had not been on board her long
Before the fleet they all did sail,
From Spithead to St. Helens, boys,
With a fine and pleasant gale.
And when to St. Helens, boys, we came,
The wind at west was very high;
Sir Edward Hawke hove out his signal,
For to come to anchor that very night.
Sir Edward he hove out another signal,
For the captain’s boat to come with speed,
It was for to turn over fifty hands,
On board of the _Ipswich_ indeed.
And when alongside of the _Ipswich_ we came,
I boldly in her jump’d in:
And a-cruizing the Channel I went in her,
And the French dogs we did sweetly trim.
We’d not been out above six weeks
Before the news to us was brought:
Then to take, sink, burn, and destroy
All the French ships we came athwart.
It happen’d on a Sunday morning,
As we was on our starboard tack,
Between the hours of nine and ten,
Three sail of Frenchmen we did take.
We fir’d a shot and hoisted our colours,
Then to let them see what we was;
As soon as they came along side us
They saw we was English boys,
Then straitway they haul’d down their colours,
And unto us they did strike;
And they know’d that they must sink,
If they had offer’d for to fight.
We took five more, which made us eight,
And away to Spithead, boys, we went.
And now, my lads, we’re come to an harbour,
We can go to rest with great content.
So all young men that row in the lighters
Keep yourselves free from a press-gang,
And when ever you come athwart old W----d
For my sake give him a hearty damn.
_BRITAIN’S RESOLUTION TO FIGHT THE FRENCH._
(? 1756)
Come join with me, you Britons bold,
Ne’er let your country be sold;
We’ll let the French to understand,
We’ll fight them both by sea or land,
With hearts of steel and sword in hand,
_Like Britons bold_.
Brave Prince George shall command
Our English [army], boys, by land;
And when we meet our enemy,
We’ll let them know we’ll fight or die,
And quickly make them for to fly
_From Britons bold_.
Brave Anson and Hawke, brave Mostyn and West,
They are all admirals of the best;
And brave Boscawen we’ll not pass by,
For he will either fight or dy,
And from the French he’ll never fly,
_He is a Briton bold_.
In brave Plymouth Harbour near the main,
There’s a hundred sail of French ships we’ve ta’en;
Already, boys, they have a drench,
We have many thousands of the French,
Confin’d in close imprisonment,
_By Britons bold_.
Our Parliament they do agree
That all these ships shall prizes be.
There’s many a thousand pound in gold,
For many a jolly sailor bold,
Who did his enemies controul,
_Like Britons bold_.
Proud Lewis says, we understand,
That he will invade our British land;
But if he dare to show his face
Before Prince George’s royal grace,
We’ll make them glad to quit the place,
_Like Britons bold_.
Come, my boy, and let us go
To fight the proud, insulting foe;
Come, let us finish what’s begun,
And see what is for to be done,
We have oft-times beat them four to one,
_Like Britons bold_.
May God protect us in the field,
Against our enemies’ sword and shield;
Then fear not Charley’s Highland plods,
Nor yet proud Lewis’s wooden gods,
But scourge them with good English rods,
_Like Britons bold_.
God bless great George upon the throne,
And may he now enjoy his own;
May God preserve him day and night,
And let him long enjoy his right,
He is all loyal souls’ delight.
[_Like Britons bold._]
_THE TERRIBLE PRIVATEER._
You sailors all of courage bold,
Now a true story I will unfold;
How we behaved you soon shall hear,
On board the _Terrible_ privateer.
We touch’d at Plymouth, it was for men,
Unto the seas we went again,
And being blest with a pleasant gale,
Hop’d with our enemies to prevail.
We had not long been on the sea,
Before a Frenchman we did see;
He was well rigg’d, and come from France,
Her name was call’d the bold _Valance_.
We crowded all the sail we could,
Our thundering cannons fire we would;
Many a gallant sailor fell,
On board the ship call’d the _Terrible_.
Powder and ball did fly so fast,
Four hours and a half this fight did last,
But a sad misfortune us befell,
On board the ship call’d the _Terrible_.
We boldly gave them gun for gun,
Till the blood out of our scuppers run,
Our captain and our [mate] being slain,
We could no longer the fight maintain.
To board us then they did begin,
And stript us naked to the skin;
They put us all in the hole together,
Where twenty-seven poor souls were smother’d.
They sail’d with us to the first sea port,
And bound us in prison strong;
Where full nine months we did lay,
Before the Carteel did fetch us away.
Here’s a health unto our British fleet,
Grant they with these privateers may meet,
And [have] better luck than the _Terrible_,
And sink those Mounsiers all to hell.
_CAPTAIN DEATH._
The muse and the hero together are fir’d,
The same noble views has their bosom inspir’d;
As freedom they love, and for glory contend,
The muse o’er the hero still mourns as a friend;
So here let the muse her poor tribute bequeath,
To one British hero--’tis brave Captain Death.
The ship was the _Terrible_--dreadful to see!
His crew was as brave and as valiant as he;
Two hundred or more was their full complement,
And sure braver fellows to sea never went.
Each man was determined to spend his last breath
In fighting for Britain and brave Captain Death.
A prize they had taken diminish’d their force.
And soon the brave ship was lost in her course;
The French privateer and the _Terrible_ met,
The battle began all with horror beset:
No heart was dismay’d, each bold as Macbeth,
The sailors rejoiced, so did brave Captain Death.
Fire, thunder, balls, bullets, were soon heard and felt,
A sight that the heart of Bellona would melt;
The shrouds [were] all torn and the decks fill’d with blood,
And scores of dead bodies were thrown in the flood;
The flood, from the time of old Noah and Seth,
Ne’er saw such a man as our brave Captain Death.
At last the dread bullet came wing’d with his fate,
Our brave captain dropt, and soon after his mate;
Each officer fell, and a carnage was seen,
That soon dy’d the waves to a crimson from green;
Then Neptune rose up, and he took off his wreath,
And gave it a triton to crown Captain Death.
Thus fell the strong _Terrible_, bravely and bold,
But sixteen survivors the tale can unfold;
The French were the victors, tho’ much to their cost,
For many brave French were with Englishmen lost.
For thus says old Time, ‘Since Queen Elizabeth,
I ne’er saw the fellow of brave Captain Death.’
_A NEW SONG (ON BLAKENEY AND BYNG)._
Come all you brave Britons wherever you be,
Fill up your glasses to brave Blakeney;
O’er a full flowing bowl our voices shall ring,
Huzza for brave Blakeney, and God save the King.
_Sing tantarara shoot Byng, etc._
Here’s a health to brave Blakeney, so stout and so bold,
Who the fort of St. Philip so bravely did hold;
Had he been reinforced by Admiral Byng,
He’d not yielded St. Philip unto the French King.
_Sing tantarara, etc._
And when that he came unto the British shore,
The bells they did ring and the guns they did roar,
In a full flowing bowl his valour shall ring,
Huzza for brave Blakeney and shoot Mr. Byng.
_Sing tantarara, etc._
I had like to have forgot our brave Captain Carr,
When Admiral Byng call’d a council of war;
He boldly made answer, ‘The King sent all we
To defend fort St. Philip, and help brave Blakeney.’
_Sing, etc._
Then he left Admiral B., and away he did steer,
In spite of the guns of the great Galissionère, [_sic_]
In the fort of St. Philip he landed his men,
And sank the brave _Dolphin_ in the harbour then.
_Sing, etc._
So God save our admirals who are loyal and right,
For their King and country like Blakeney they’ll fight.
And those who are treach’rous in a halter let swing,
Huzza for brave Blakeney, and God save the King.
_Sing, etc._
_THE LETTER OF A CERTAIN ADMIRAL._
Mr. Cleveland, I pray, to their lordships you’ll say
We are glad and rejoice above measure:
When you have read what is writ you, you’ll laugh till it split you,
And so give me joy of my pleasure.
We’d a wind, you must know, as fair as could blow,
And therefore in days just eleven,
We had sail’d from the shore, full ten leagues or more,
And saw nought but the ocean and heaven.
Then seventeen ships came licking their lips.
And crying out, ‘Fee, faw and fum’;
Bigger each than Saint Paul; guns, the devil and all;
And, egad, looking wondrous glum.
But no matter for that, who says pit-a-pat?
We tack’d, and we stood to the weather;
We tack’d quite about, right and left, brave and stout,
And so we were sideways together.
Souls five score and two, maugre all they could do,
We took in a tartan alive;
Six hundred did sail in the vessel so frail,
But our hundred had eat up the five.
But of this by the bye; for now we drew nigh
To each other--quite close--nay, ’tis true;
Six times two of the line, large, grand, bright and fine;
Five frigates! but look’d rather blue.
‘Fair honour,’ quoth I, ‘in thy arms let me die,
And my glory burn clear in the socket’;
Not an ounce more of powder, or a gun a note louder,
So the d[irections] I put in my pocket.
Brave West led the van, I follow’d amain;
Such closing, and raking, and work,
With foresails and braces all flutt’ring in pieces,
’Twould have melted the heart of a Turk.
But the devil, in spite, to blast our delight,
Got aboard the _Intrepid_, his daughter;
Made her jump, fly, and jumble, reel, elbow, and tumble,
And drove us quite out of the water.
And now, being tea-time, we thought it was the time
To talk over what we had done;
So we put on the kettle our tempers to settle;--
And presently set the fair sun.
Our council next day, in seemly array,
Met, sat, and debated the story:
We found that our fleet at last might be beat,
And then, you know, where is the glory?
Moreover, ’twas plain, three ships in the van
Had their glasses and china all broke;
And this gave the balance, in spite of great talents,
Against us--a damnable stroke!
Without fear of reproaches, as sound as your roaches,
Of glory we’ve sav’d our whole stock;
’Twere pity, indeed, to lose it, or bleed,
For a toothless old man and a rock.
_A RUEFUL STORY, ADMIRAL B----G’S GLORY, OR WHO RUN AWAY FIRST._
A New Ballad to the tune of _John, Duke of Marlborough_.
Give ear, ye sons of glory,
Of greater deeds I sing
Than e’er were recorded in story,
All done by great Admiral Byng.
_Sing, sing, O rare Admiral Byng._
It was in the very same sea, sir,
His father’s fleet did swim:
His father fought well, we agree, sir,
But his father was nothing like him.
_Sing, sing, O great Admiral Byng._
At first he came to Gibraltar,
Where he was [for] succours to call;
But wisely his orders did alter,
And took no succours at all.
_Sing, sing, O wise Admiral Byng._
While Portmahon was invaded,
And Blakeney defended the fort,
In the sea for a while he paraded,
And then took a peep at the port.
_Sing, sing, O bold Admiral Byng._
At length he descried the foe, sir,
Whom he bravely determined to beat,
If he cou’d without striking a blow, sir,
Or hurting his Majesty’s fleet.
_Sing, sing, O brave Admiral Byng._
And when the engagement began, sir,
The admiral stuck to his plan;
For he fought without firing a gun, sir,
Or loosing a single man.
_Sing, sing, O rare Admiral Byng._
West gallantly charg’d in the van, sir,
Without dismay or fear;
But Byng, who would not risk a man, sir,
Kept cautiously snug in the rear.
_Sing, sing, great Rear-Admiral Byng._
At length the French run away, sir,
As Frenchmen are apt to do:
But he scorn’d to give them foul play, sir,
So _he_ civilly run away too.
_Sing, sing, generous Admiral Byng._
For behaving so well in the ocean,
At least he deserves well a string;
And if he wou’d sue for promotion,
I hope they will give him his swing.
_Swing, swing, O rare Admiral Byng!_
_ADMIRAL BYNG AND BRAVE WEST._
I said unto brave West, ‘Take the van, take the van,’
I said unto brave West, ‘Take the van.’
I said unto brave West,
‘As you like fighting best,
I in the rear will rest,
Take the van.’
Brave West did boldly act in the van, in the van,
Brave West did boldly act in the van;
As he did boldly act,
I call’d my own ships back;
Else he’d put the French to wrack
Near Mahon.
Oh! woe to cursed gold! ohon! ohon!
Oh! woe to cursed gold! ohon!
Oh! woe to cursed gold;
For Minorca I have sold,
That gallant place of old,
With Mahon!
It’s decreed by the King, I do hear, I do hear,
He’s decreed it the nation to please,
It’s decreed by the King,
I’ll be shot by my marines,
For the misdeed I have deen
On the seas.
_A NEW SONG WRITTEN ON THE ISLE OF AIX._
Tune of _Every Man keep his own Room_.
I am a sailor bold, and press’d to served the King,
I am sent upon an errand some laurels home to bring:
I am now on the coast, boys, where they are to be had,
But alas! I dare not gather them, which makes me raving mad.
_Mad, boys, mad. Alas! I dare not gather them, which makes me
raving mad._
It’s enough to make a dog mad, to see a pudding creep.
If he could not get at it, he’d bark and howl and weep;
Methinks I see the laurels grow and easy to be had,
Alas! I dare not gather them, which makes me raving mad.
_Mad, boys, mad, etc._
My master has a nosegay, but it is not compleat,
Tho’ the royal rose of England is excellently sweet;
The laurel and French lilly in plenty may be had:
Alas! I dare not gather them, which makes me raving mad.
_Mad, boys, mad, etc._
The Derbyshire and Cheshire boys by Henry were sent
To fetch the Flower-de-Luce home, and chearfully they went;
They brought it home to England which made their hearts full glad;
But if their hands had been confin’d they all had been stark mad,
Alas! I dare not gather them, which makes me raving mad.
_Mad, boys, mad, etc._
If I without my errand to England do return,
Alas! I fear in effigy my body they will burn;
The boys will hollow after me, as I do pass along,
And evry Grub-street printer will curse me in a song.
_Song, boys, song. And every Grub-street printer will curse me
in a song._
_BOLD SAWYER._
Come all ye jolly sailors with courage stout and bold,
Come enter with bold Sawyer, he’ll cloath you all in gold;
Repair on board the old _Nassau_,
As fine a ship as e’er you saw,
We’ll make the French to stand in awe;
_She’s mann’d with British boys_.
Commander Keppel with his good design,
Commanded the squadron, five sail of the line,
The _Prince Edward_ of forty guns,
The _Firedrake_ and _Furnace_ bombs,
To take Goree it must be done,
_By true British boys_.
The 29th of October from Spithead we set sail,
Kind Neptune convey’d us with a sweet and pleasant gale,
So steering on the Barbary shore,
Distance about twelve leagues or more,
The wind at west aloud did roar;
_Stand by, ye British boys_.
So, steering on the lee-shore until the break of day,
We spy’d a lofty sail on the Barbary shore to lay,
In great distress she seem’d to be,
Her guns all overboard threw she,
Which prov’d the _Lichfield_ for to be,
_With all her British boys_.
The wind blowing hard, we could give them no relief,
A stretching on the lee shore we touch’d at Teneriff.
So watering the ships at Santa Cruz,
Taking good wine for our ship’s use,
We sold our cloaths good wine to booze,
_Like brave British boys_.