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160 SONGS AND BALLADS
Now fling up the bowl; bring an anchor of Nantz ;
Let the doctor thank God for His mercies; Then we'll drink the Queen's health to our captives of France
With a French man-of-war at our arses. |
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The dismal lamentation of the widows and fatherless children for the loss of their husbands and relations, that was blown up on board the Edgar man-of-war, October, 15, 1711.
To the Tune of Aim not too high.
ist Woman.
Hark ! hark ! alas ! what fatal news is come ! It strikes a terror great thro' Christendom.
2nd Woman. What is it, neighbour ? Pray, to me unfold.
ist Woman. The sadest news that ever mortal told.
2ND Woman.
Hold me not in suspence, good neighbour, pray, But tell me quickly what you have to say : I hope our ship and all in her is well; I long to hear you. Pray, come quickly tell.
ist Woman
Here is a letter—O prepare your ears !—
From Gosport Hospital. Let floods of tears
Flow from your eyes : the gallant Edgar's gone.
Ah ! neighbour, neighbour, well may we make moan.
Your husband dear and mine, and many more,
Are blown up in the air, near thirty score,
By fatal chance of powder; by one blast
Our tender husbands now have breath'd their last. |
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