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286 SONGS AND BALLADS |
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We brought her to England, the flower of France— Thus, thus may we serve all who dare to advance. She's been built but six weeks, and her guns were fourscore, Whilst the brave little Mars carry'd seventy-four.
Yet see, see Britannia with sorrow is fill'd, For brave Captain Hood in the action was kill'd ; Likewise the-Marines lost their captain so bold, His name it was White, worth his full weight in gold.
The French lost three hundred, and we lost threescore, In kill'd and in wounded. Thank God 'twas no more ! Here's a health to the crew of the brave jolly Mars, With another full bumper to all jolly tars. |
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VERSES WRITTEN ON BOARD HIS MAJESTY'S SHIP THE ASTR^EA, BY THE YOUNGER MIDSHIPMEN OF THAT FRIGATE, 1798.
When in the cockpit all was dim, And not a mid dared show his glim,
A youth was left alone. He scratched his head, surveyed his clothes, Then took the other cheering dose,
And thus began his moan :—
' Ah ! Cursed be that fatal day When I from home was led astray,
In this damned place to dwell: Oh ! had I in the country stay'd I might have learnt some useful trade
And scorn'd the white lapelle.
' When first on board the ship I went, My belly full, my mind content,—
No sorrows touched my heart: I view'd my coat, so flash and new, My gay cockade, my hanger too,
■ And thought them wondrous smart. |
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