| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
176 SONGS AND BALLADS
' Now come, my loving countrymen, with courage play your parts,
For if the English take us, we are sure of our deserts ;
Tis better manfully to fight, and here to die at sea,
For if the English take us now, we shall all hanged be.'
With that they gave a loud huzza, unto him thus did cry,
' You shall from hence our captain be, we'll fight until we die.'
Like jolly hearts of gold they made their cannons roar, Into the Kent without delay a full broad-side did pour; Which noble Captain Durell bold did soon return again; Full fifty of the Spanish men by that broad-side were slain. Broad-side for broad-side, nine hours we did fight, Till we at length did take them, our cause being just and right.
Yard-arm and yard-arm, for hours there [we] lay ;
With great guns, small arms, and cutlasses we made a bloody
fray; Dead men in numbers lay about, our scuppers fill'd with blood, Which made the seas [a]round us so like a purple flood. Three fingers from one hand brave Captain Durell lost; But yet he was not daunted, still he maintain'd the cause.
The third it was the Orford, who had spectator been,
But could not come to help us, nor join the bloody scene;
He hove his ship up to the wind, and brought some guns to bear,
When the desperate saw that, his heart sunk down with fear ;
He was so sore disabled, and was so flutter'd then,
To which he had already lost above five hundred men.
But then this Irish desperate did also order then Two guns to point down in the hold, to sink both ship and men. O ! this unhappy order fill'd his men with horrid dread," When instantly a cannon-ball came and took off his head. They made no more resistance, but down their colours took, And to the Orford now come up, immediately she struck.
So now these Irish desperates, their case it must look sad; To fight against King and country, their cause was very bad. Here's health to all our admirals, and the captains also, Likewise to every brave seaman aboard with them that go. And may the bowl*successful flow to all our British fleet, Wishing they may Jack Spaniard drub, where'er with them they meet. |
||