Go, go, thou base Sir Hugh, vice-admiral of the blue,
Prythee be still!

Ah! what a wicked dog, to splice the very log!
Give him, instead of grog, a leaden pill!

A NEW SONG ON ADMIRAL BARRINGTON.

Come, all you jolly sailors of courage stout and bold,
Come, listen to these lines; the truth I will unfold.
Jack, ensign, and pennant in the morning we let fly,
We engag'd the French fleet the 6th of July.

Our drums they did beat and to quarters we went,
And for to engage the French fleet it was our intent;
Our guns they being loaded with round and grape shot,
We beat three ports into one on board the Languedoc.

There was Admiral Barrington, Britannia's delight,
With courage undaunted he boldly did fight;
His rigging being shatter'd, and likewise his sails,
He still kept cannonading on board the Prince of Wales.

We had one floating battery carry'd guns upon three decks
And in the time of action she left her f a legs [sic].
We never back'd our topsails French cannon to shun,
But boldly ran the gantlet with Admiral Barrington.

If Royal George of England will give us the grant
For Admiral Barrington to have the command,
We would conquer the French fleet were they ever so strong,
We'd hoist the British colours on board the Count d'Estaing.

There's Captain Fitzherbert was valiant in the fight,

And in the Royal Oak he took great delight,

In the loading their guns and discharging so free;

It shew'd that they were loyal to King and country.

Come, my brave boys, this engagement is all o'er,

And when that we return, my boys, we'll dance, sing, and roar ;
This song it shall be with the old and the young :
Long life and success unto Admiral Barrington,

Our sweethearts and wives they are not to be forgot;

The balls they now engage with are softer than French shot. When e'er we do return, my boys, we'll make these culls to run, We'll make them dread the sailors that fought with Barrington.

Our bowls they are full, and we have plenty for to drink,
And that's the thing which causes me to drop my pen and ink;
Whene'er we meet the French dogs we'll make their jackets
smoak,

Whilst Captain Fitzherbert commands the Royal Oak.

PAUL JONES.

An American frigate, called the Richard by name,
Mounted guns forty-four, out of L'Orient came
For to cruise in the Channel of Old England's fame,
With a noble commander: Paul Jones was his name.

We had not long cruised before two sails we spied,
A large forty-four and a twenty likewise,

With fifty bright shipping well loaded with store,
And the convoy stood in for the old Yorkshire shore.

At length the proud Pearson came up alongside

With a long speaking trumpet. 'Whence came you?' he cried. Come, answer me quickly-I've hailed you before

Or else a broadside into you I will pour.'

Paul Jones he then smiled and to his men did say,

'Let every man stand to the best of his play.'

We received the broadside from the proud Englishmen,
But soon our brave Yankees returned it again.

We fought them four glasses, four glasses so hot,
Till 40 bold seamen lay dead on the spot,

And 55 more lay bleeding in gore,

While the thundering large canons of Paul Jones did roar.

Our gunner, being frightened, to Paul Jones he came. 'Our ship she makes water and is likewise in flame.' Paul Jones he made answer in the height of his pride, 'If we can do no better we'll sink alongside.'

Oh, now, my brave boys, we have taken a prize,
A large forty-four with a twenty likewise,
With twenty fine merchantmen laden with store,
So we'll alter our course to the American shore.

CAPTAIN FARMER.

The muse and the hero together are fir'd,
The same noble views have their bosoms inspir'd;
As freedom they love, and for glory contend,
The muse o'er the hero still mourns as a friend;
His name from the jaws of oblivion to save,
The muse shall immortalize Farmer the brave.

His ship was the Quebec, fatal, glorious name,
The source to Britannia of sorrow and fame.
We've twice to our cost that name ill-omen'd found,
But now we've no balsam to heal this fresh wound,
For then tho' Wolfe's loss to our joy gave a check,
Whilst we morn'd for the chief we rejoic'd for Quebec.

At daybreak, ere Phoebus had shed his blest light,
Three sail he espy'd, and prepar'd for to fight;
October the 6th, anno seventy-nine,

With a forty-gun ship he in battle did join ;

At nine in the morning began the fierce fray,
Which without intermission held most of the day.

Five hours and upwards the action did last ;

The shrouds were all torn, and they lost every mast;
Tho' thicker than hail the dread bullets did fly

Yet still to his men gallant Farmer did cry,

'Fight away, my brave boys; I will spend my last breath Ere I'll yield to the foe: give me conquest or death.’

At length the proud foe was constrain❜d to retire ;

They steer'd to some distance and slackened their fire.
The victory, Hibernia, had then been thy son's,
But the sails of the Quebec were fir'd by her guns.
Then all was distraction, confusion, despair:
The vessel took fire and blew up in the air.

Thus fell gallant Farmer, the generous and brave;
The Rambler in vain strove his life for to save.
Her long boat she hoist out for to take up the crew,
But the sea rose too high, and too hard the wind blew.
Seventeen she picked up on the waves that did float;
The barbarous enemy fir'd at the boat.

Ye sons of Hibernia, for valour renown'd,

The praises of Farmer, your hero, resound;

His name bright shall shine. Then a truce to all grief; Vernon, Warren, Tyrrell shall welcome the chief,

And the brave British Cornwall with pleasure shall crown An Hibernian whose exit resembled his own.

Taught by his great example let's danger defy;
For the sake of our country let's conquer or die.
May our navy triumphant ride over the main,
And check the presumption of Gallia and Spain;
And, oh! may some hero rise ere 'tis too late,
Chastise insolent Jones, and revenge Farmer's fate!

THE BOLD BLADES OF OLD ENGLAND.

Come, rouse up, my lads, let us haste to the main,
And load home our chests with the dollars of Spain,
For as we have beat them we'll do so again,

And it's, oh! the bold blades of Old England!

They tell us that sixty fine ships of the line
Of France and of Spain in the ocean do shine;
But let them remember the year fifty-nine;
They were banged by the blades, etc.

Those villains they thought some advantage to take
On America's land, for to lessen her state;
But they quickly shall know it was all a mistake,
Convinc'd by the blades, etc.

How proudly they came with a numerous host

To take, sink, and burn, and to land on our coast;

And when they had done nothing went home for to boast Afraid of the blades, etc.

Already we have some of their dollars to shew
At Liverpool, Guernsey, and London also,
And took one of their islands, call'd fam'd Omoa.
Oh! the bold blades, etc.

Brave Rodney and Parker have done the thing well,
And altho' their admirals made such a swell,
Will soon be sent home the news for to tell;
They've been drub'd by the blades, etc.

Bold Rodney, we hear, is come up with a foe,
Took one man-of-war, and five frigates also,
With about eighteen transports, a very smart blow.
Oh! the bold blades, etc.

Then come, my true Britons, and fill up the glass
To George and his navy; around let it pass,
And he that won't pledge it proclaim him an ass;
And its, oh! the bold blades, etc.

THE ROYAL SAILOR.

The foes of Old England (France, Holland, and Spain),
Made bold by indulgence, insulted the main ;

The flag of defiance together unfurl'd,

And at England, Old England, their vengence they hurl'd: When Neptune arose from his watry throne;

In a coral [red] suit he most beautifully shone;

He call'd for his tritons, and bade them repair

To the Court of great George, for young William was there. 'He's royal, he's noble, he's chosen by me

This isle to protect and reign prince of the sea.'

O'erjoy'd at the message, the youth rear'd his head.
'I'll fight like a prince,' were the words that he said;
'The cause of my country I'll boldly espouse;
To the sea I'm wedded, and give her my vows.
With Rodney, with Digby, with Ross I will go,
And die, but I'll conquer each insolent foe.'
The tritons reported the words that he said,
And Spain heard the plaudits by Neptune then paid:
'He's royal, he's noble, he's chosen by me

Britain's isle to protect and reign prince of the sea.'