Our squadron, true blew,

Fought their way through and through ;

At length in Lobs' Po . . . . und, boys, we got 'um,
Where we gave the proud French

Such a fiery drench

That we sent them, we sent them straight down to the bottom.

Such a slaughter we made,
While the loud cannons play'd,

Which laid the poor Mo . . . . nsieurs a-bleeding;
Nay, their chief admiral

We did bitterly maul,

And have taught him, I hope, better breeding.

Our brave admiral

Being stout Dellaval,

Whose actions all m . . . . en may admire ;
For the French Rising Sun

Was not able to run,

Which with seven, with seven more ships did he fire.

Valiant Rook sail'd straightway

Where a French squadron lay

Close amongst the ro . . . . cks then for shelter ;
But we fell on galore,

And we fir'd twelve more ;

Thus we fir'd and burn'd the French fleet helter-skelter.

Being sunk, took, and burn'd,
There's not many return'd,

Was this not a wo . . . . full disaster?

How they far'd on our coast

Let 'em sail home and boast

To old Lewis, old Lewis, their fistula-master.

When he hears how they sped
It will strike him near dead,

Losing what he lo . . . . ng has been getting;
But we'll have him to know

That we'll still keep him low:

He shall never, shall never, boys, conquer Great Britain.

ADMIRAL RUSSELL'S SCOWERING THE FRENCH FLEET; OR, THE BATTLE AT SEA.

Thursday in the morn, the Ides of May,

Recorded be for ever the famous ninety-two.
Brave Russel did discern by dawn of day

The lofty sails of France advancing now.

'All hands aloft, aloft; let English valour shine.
Let fly a culvering, the signal of the line;
Let ev'ry hand supply his gun.

Follow me, and you'll see

That the battle will be soon begun.'

Tourville o'er the main triumphant rowl'd

To meet the gallant Russel in combat on the deep;
He led the noble train of heroes bold

To sink the English admiral at his feet.

Now every valiant mind to victory does aspire;
The bloody fight's begun, the sea itself on fire,
And mighty Fate stood looking on

Whilst a flood all of blood

Fill'd the port-holes of the Royal Sun.

Sulpher, smoak, and fire disturbed the air,

With thunder and wonder to fright the Gallick shore;
Their regulated bands stood trembling near
To see their lofty streamers now no more.
At six a clock the Red the smiling victor led,
To give a second blow, their total overthrow.
Now death and horror equal reign;
Now they cry, run, or dye !

Brittish colours ride the vanquish'd main.

See they run amaz'd thro' rocks on sands:

One danger they grasp at, to shun a greater fate.

In vain they crie for aid to weeping lands;

The nimphs and sea gods mourn their lost estate.
For ever more adieu, thou dazling Royal Sun;
From thy untimely end thy master's fate begun :
Enough, thou mighty god of war.
Now we sing, 'God bless the King,
Let us drink to ev'ry English tar.'

Come, jolly seamen, all with Russel go

To sail on the main, proud Monsieur for to greet And give our enemy a second blow,

And fight Tourville if that he dare to meet.

Come, brother tar, what cheer? Let each [his gun] supply, And thump 'em off this year, or make Mounsie[u]r to fly

While we do range the ocean round.

Day or night we will fight

When our enemy is to be found.

Let it ne'er be said that English boys

Should e'er stay behind when their admiral goes;
But let each honest lad crie with one voice,

'Brave Russel, lead us on to fight the foes.'

We'll give them gun for gun, some sink and other burn.
Broad-sides we'll give 'em too, till Monsieur crys, 'Morblew!
Des Engleteer vill kill us all.'

Whilst they scower we will pour

Thick as hail amongst them cannon-ball.

A MERRY NEW BALLAD ON THE GREAT VICTORY OVER THE FRENCH FLEET, MAY THE 19th, 1692.

To as merry a new Tune, Hey! for the honour of Old England.

I sing ye a ballad as round me ye stand,
Which is for the honour of Old England:
Old England, Old England;
Which is for the honour of Old England.

In the month of May, the year ninety-two,
The Englishman did his old valour show:
Old England, Old England, etc.

We sent out our scouts the foe to descry
When Cape de Hague we were sailing by
Old England, etc.

This was a good omen, we now understand,
And Lewis hates Hague by sea or by land:
Old England, etc.

But in our Channel the battel was fought,
And so the French fleet in a net was caught,
Net was caught, net was caught;

And so the French fleet in a net was caught.

Yet Monsieur, expecting that all was his own,
On Admirall Russell did boldly bear down:
Old England, etc.

He gave a broad-side, which was kindly took,
And then the Britannia in thunder spoke,
Thunder spoke, thunder spoke,

And then the Britannia' in thunder spoke.

Till in musquet shot she fires no gun,
In compliment then salutes the French Sun,
Old England, etc.

And warms her sides so that for all her might
She fairly tows off, and bids us good night:
Old England, etc.

Thus have we been taught in a tale or old song,
French fury was never known to last long:
Old England, etc.

When Tourville had given the signal to flye,
His squadrons, as ready, do westward, ho! ply:
Old England, etc.

Some of his lame geese, not able to bear

Their heads above water, to the bottom they steer : Old England, etc.

The rest we pursue in their stragling flight,
And chase the poltrons most part of the night:

Old England, Old England,

And hey! for the honour of Old England.

The next morning was foggy; but when it grew clear The chase was renew'd, and so was their fear :

Old England, etc.

We made all our sail, and gave 'em no rest.

From point to point drove 'em, from west to east :
Old England, etc.

Those coursers, so brisk at the starting-place,
Run heavily now through Alderney Race:
Old England, etc.

Into Cherburgh Bay three tall ones did run,
Where a northern blaze burns up the south Sun:
Old England, etc.

'Twas Heath did this feat; and Greenway another, For the Conquerant fell, in flames and in smother : Old England, etc.

And Fowlis was daring, though he miss'd his prey;
He flew at the Sun, but stoopt by the way:

Old England, etc.

But now we are making for Bay Le Hogue,
Where on land, they say, are many a brogue:
Old England, etc.

These doughty wights, those true Irish Teagues
Won't let us come near 'em by several leagues:
Old England, etc.

Such gallant alliance the French much imports;
They'll save their friends' ships, as they did their own forts :
Old England, etc.

But manning our boats, those wise ones we cozen,

And burn in this bay thirteen to the dozen :

Old England, etc.

This action's far greater than that of Lepanto,
And merits alone a whole noble canto :

Old England, etc.

For, like the old Britains, our men did assail 'em
In open boats, and naked we quail 'em :

Old England, etc.