O Victory! thou wast unlucky, but once before was out at sea,
In the night run foul of the Lion, and her carved work took

away:

Now thou art gone to the bottom with a jovial company,

An admiral, marines and sailors, most unhappy Victory!

Oh! the grief of mournful widows, and their children fatherless, And the grief of tender parents, is more than what I can express : Some lamenting for their sweethearts overwhelm'd with grief we

see,

Each one laments his dear relation, Oh! the fatal Victory!

Children crying for their fathers, widows weeping in distress,
God will surely be their comfort, and protect the fatherless.
He'll be a husband to the widow that loves honest industry,
And does give them His protection; farewell fatal Victory!

DISCONSOLATE JUDY'S LAMENTATION FOR THE ABSENCE OF HER TRUE LOVE JOHNNY, ON BOARD THE VICTORY, WITH ADMIRAL BALCHEN, NOW MISSING.

O John, my lovely sailor dear,
My heart is sore opprest with fear;
A letter, true love, send to me,
From on board the Victory.

No cruel balls has hurt my dear,

No fatal rocks you have come near,
Nor taken by an enemy,

You nor the gallant Victory.

Nine hundred men on board you have,

A jolly crew both stout and brave

As ever did go out to sea,
God send safe home the Victory.

Dear Johnny, I at Portsmouth wait,
And watch for you early and late,
Wishing each moment for to see
Come sailing in the Victory.

ENGLAND'S GLORY; OR THE French KING STRIPPED.

Being a new song compos'd by Capt. Roberts, in praise of those bold sailors belonging to the Prince Frederick, and Duke Privateers, who took the two French ships with forty five waggon loads of money on board, which was brought through the City in triumph to the Tower.

Tune of Avast! Honest Mess-mate.

Come all you jolly seamen, that's willing to enter
On board of the Duke, your lives for to venture,
On board of the Duke, she's called by name,
She cruizes the seas for old England's fame.

Fal, etc.

The fourth day of May from the Downs we set sail,
O, we were blest with a very fine gale :

And with the Prince Frederick being our Commodore,
We steered away, boys, for the Canary shore.

Fal, etc.

The tenth day of July, it being very clear,
We espy'd three ships belonging to Mounsieur ;
O, these three ships were coming from Peru,
With gold and silver, boys, all in our view.

Fal, etc.

A broadside from these French dogs we did receive,
But quickly two for one O we did them give :
But then at length they would no longer fight,
'Our ships are a sinking' for quarter they cry'd.

Fal, etc.

We hoisted out our pinnace, went to them straitway,
We boarded two of their ships the very same day;
We brought all the prisoners on board our own ship,
Our hearts then within us began for to leap.

Fal, etc.

Then we went to Kingsale, being the nearest place,
That we durst go to for to show our face:
Where we had good wine and punch in gollore,
And rum and brandy, boys, all in good store.

Fal, etc.

THE LUCKY SAILOR; OR THE SAILOR'S INVITATION TO GO WITH ADMIRAL ANSON.

Come jolly sailors, join with me,
Come jolly sailors, join with me,
To fight with Anson for renown,

That we the French pride may pull down!
We'll take 'em all upon the seas;
We'll take 'em all upon the seas;

We'll make 'em strike where'er we meet,

Or serve 'em all as we've done these.

My boys, you heard what we have done, (bis)
Ten sail of men-of-war we took,

And made the merchant-men to run;
Our admiral he ordered then, (bis)
Three men-of-war to chase 'em all,
To sink and take whate'er they can.

The Centurion first led the van, (bis)
And held 'em till we came up ;
Then we their hides did sorely bang,
Our broadsides we on them did pour, (bis)
We gave the French a sower d[r]ench,
And soon their topsails made them lower.

And when they saw our fleet come up, (bis)
They for quarters call'd without delay,
And their colours they that moment struck
O! how we did rejoice and sing, (bis)

To see such prizes we had took,

For ourselves and for George our King.

O! now, my boys, I'm come on shore, (bis) I'll make you drink before we part;

Such luck I never had before.

Here is a health to those brave men, (bis)

That did command this noble fleet,

Bold Anson and brave Warren.

My boys our prizes is arrived, (bis)
Which when the people they did see,

It did their very hearts revive.

With joy and mirth we spent the night, (bis) In drinking loyal healths all round,

It was such a welcome sight.

Our ships are all a fitting up, (bis)
Again with Anson we will go,

I wish we may have but good luck.
My boy, I'd have you to go too, (bis)
For Anson is a lucky man,

Where'er he comes he makes 'em rue.

This is the second time you've seen (bis)

The waggon loads of money come,

And all taken by brave Anson.

Come now, my boys, drink off a glass ; (bis Let's not forget now we're come home, Each bold sailor's pretty lass.

TIT FOR TAT: A SEA KICK FOR A LAND CUFF.

Being the sailors' song upon our having a Hawke's eye on the French fleet, the fourteenth of October last [1747].

I

Ring, ring out our bells! and to Calais from Dover
Let our cannons loud roar carry France the news over,
That the balance of land and sea war we've brought home,
And our prizes, at Portsmouth, pay their Bergen-opzoom.
So Huzzah! to King George, boys; long, long may he reign,
By the right of old England, long lord of the main !

So Huzzah! to King George, etc.

2

Now hark! and you'll hear (and with truth 'twill be told)
How the seas have been swept by his true hearts of gold :
In the month of October, to West Indies bound,

A fleet so becrowded with numbers we found,

Tho' our ken could not count 'em, our first chasing gun
Observ'd 'em less forward to fight than to run.

Tho' our ken could not count 'em, etc.

3

All, all hands aloft, and away 'fore the wind,

Full sail sped their merchants, from convoys behind;
Yet, to do their tall ships the true honour we owe 'em,
Tho' to beat was above 'em, to fly was below 'em.
But their cargoes, in danger, had no time to talk;
So like pigeons they flew from our bold British Hawk.
But their cargoes, in danger, etc.

4

Now broadsides to broadsides, smash! thro' and thro' boring, Made the sea seem a forest of lions all roaring!

But the Severn's bruised ribs felt our shot fly so sore,

That her loud fifty mouths never spoke a word more.

So silenc'd we left her, without more concern,

To be catch'd, as we saw, by our frigates astern.
So silenc'd we left her, etc.