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208 SONGS AND BALLADS
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 directions] 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 ? |
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