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SEA SONGS. |
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Our powder, careful fellow,
Their Governor wouldn't waste; So, out from Porte Bello,
A white flag rowed in haste; 'Twas ours, their hold so vaunted,
Their port we'd vowed to gain; A prize to hearts, undaunted
By all the Dons of Spain; Hurrah ! a prize we'd won, boys,
With pride we well might log, And what he'd said, he'd done, boys,
So, here's to brave Old Grog. |
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