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336 SONGS AND BALLADS
Hoarse was the slaving captain's voice, and deep the oath he
swore : ' Haul down the flag; that's shot enough, we don't want any
more.' Alongside dashed the cruiser's boat to board and seize the prize. Hark to that rattling British cheer that's ringing to the skies ! ' Up, up with the negroes speedily; up, up, and give them breath ; Clear out the hold from stem to stern : that noisome den is death ; And run aloft St. George's Cross, all wanton let it wave, The token proud that under it there never treads a slave.' |
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THE RUSSIANS WON'T COME OUT Written by a seaman on board the Cressy.
What can we luckless sailors do ? no fun comes to our share; The enemy keeps out of view—to meet us they won't dare ! In vain our pennants fly so gay, our cruisers roam about, We might as well in Portsmouth lay—the Russians won't come out!
In Helsingfors they lay quite close; 'neath Cronstadt mole they
crowd; They'll not come out and meet the foes whom once they dared
so loud. Like to some worn-out batter'd hulk each gallant ship so stout Behind the batteries does skulk—the cowards won't come out!
The Arrogant and Hecla, too, gave them a lesson rough;
Tho' fighting to our lads was new they proved both smart and
tough ; They strewed the ground with soldiers gay, their batteries
knocked about, And brought their merchant ships away, yet still they won't come
out!
While in the Baltic we deplore our idle time at sea,
Our comrades on the Turkish shore are as badly off as we.
Though many ships they've made their own, ta'en many a strong
redoubt, And batter'd half Odessa down, the Russians won't come out ! |
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