I thought upon the banks o' Coil, At length I reach'd the bonny glen, I pass'd the mill, and trysting thorn, Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I, sweet lass, That's dearest to thy bosom; Sae wistfully she gaz'd on me, That gallant badge, the dear cockade, She gaz'd---she redden'd like a rose, She sank within mine arms, and cried, By whom true love's regarded, I am the man---and thus True lovers be rewarded. The wars are o'er, and I'm come hame, And find thee still true-hearted; Tho' poor in gear, we're rich in love, And come, my faithful sodger lad, For gold the merchant ploughs the main, THE HISTORY OF THE WAR. TWAS all how and about and concerning the war, And all the glory of Britain's bold navy; And all our fine brushes, and what 'twas all for, That the whistle of fame has sung out sea and shore, For when british bull dogs begin for to roar, The prettiest shall soon cry peccavi. For the war, how it happened, and what 'twas about, That's nothing to we, tars must do as they're bid; So, all I can tell you, the war once broke out, past, So they do us but honour as lords of the sea, It don't matter a damn, which come first or which last: boarded her and struck her colours, then there was Saumarez, off Cherbourgh, took the Re-union, killed and wounded a hundred and twenty, without the loss of a British seaman. Both knighted and barow-knighted, that's right; some sense to fight for a country like this. In short, we worked them, we took Neptune, and Fortune, and Victory; but for the matter of that, we had all this on our side before. Then we took Liberty that was just bringing coals to Newcastle, you know; Glory, ditto repeated; after that, we took Immortality, but they did not care much about that; and then, at last, we took their Constitution. That was nonsense, we had a good Constitution of our own. Then we took Resistance, and Freedom, and Fame, and Concord; damme, we took almost every thing from them but palaver, and that they are welcome to. Well then, we took all the Saints from the Spaniards; and then we took from the Dutch, I don' know what the devil we took from the Dutch, with their cursed hard names. As for me, &c. WHEN IN WAR ON THE OCEAN. WHEN in war on the ocean we meet the proud foe, Though with ardor for conquest our bosoms may glow, Let us see on their vessels old England's flag wave, They shall find British sailors but conquer to save. And now their pale ensign we view from afar, With three cheers they're welcom'd by each British tar; While the genius of Britain still bids us advance, And our guns hurl in thunder defiance to France. Spoken.] Why now, there was Howe and the glorious first of June! then there was Jarvis when he beat the Spaniards fifteen to twenty-seven; Duncan, with his hard blows with the Dutch; Nelson and the Nile: but, lud, 'tis nonsense to tell you about these grand affairs. For our great grand grand children will read about it, you know, in almanacs and things, just as people read of the hard frost and fire in London. It is the neat little brushes, that I intends to talk to you about. There was Pellew in the Hampin, don't you remember; pegging away at that seventy-four, just for all the world like two school-boys licking a great hulking fellow; then there was Fawkener; who would not have died like Fawkener? and then there was Cooke, in the East Indies, he fell nobly too; damme, if I would not as soon be Cooke as Fawkener. But avast, avast, there was another brave fellow; indeed there was plenty of brave fellows, if that was all, but I mean Hood, in the Mars, just saw the Hercules strike, and died. Hollo, zounds, I shall be swabbing my bows, if I go on at this rate; stay, what was there else? oh, there was the brush with the La Pomone; and then you know, Sir Sidney, he did some neat things; and then there was Trollope, in the Glatton; and there was, you know there was, damme if I know what there was, but As for me, I e'nt learn'd, for I can't read or write, But, what's reading or writing, or any such arts? To find their due praise for their country that fight, We must read from our mem'ries what's writ in our hearts. Not that heroes e'er brag or for flattery sue, True bravery was never yet known to be vain, And the thanks and the honours so nobly their due, By deeds, not by words, gallant Britons obtain. Spoken.] Why, what could be so glorious, you know, as Pellew, when he took the Cleopatra' |