HY I'm singing of French, Dutch, and

Spanish bravada,
And going to give you cach regular date,
Since the year that we conquer'd the famous ar-

mada, Which hapt fifteen hundred and eighty-eight. Queen Elizabeth, bless the old girl, was plac'd

ready, If they landed, toshow 'em some true English

sport; But their whiskers were sing’d by Drake, both

brave and steady, Just to save them a licking at Tilbury fort. Then hooraw for the tars of England, so free, The pride of the world, and the lords of the sea. In ninety-six folloiving, Raleigh and Howard, OffCalais, with their cannon so pepper'd the Dons, That the smell of the powder made each man a

coward; And they call’d on their Saints as they fled from

their guns. Sixteen hundred and sixty and two, with his

besoin, Van Tromp swore he'd sweep the whole sea,

or be shot; But Blake beat him twice, and, next year, just to

please him, He'd two actions with Monk, and Mynheer went to pot.

Then hooraw, &c.

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In sixty and five, the Dutch Admiral Opdam, Told the people he'd eat up the brave Duke of

York! But his highness so merrily pepper'd and popp'd

'em; Though their ships were like lead, yet their

heels were like cork. Next year for four days, Albermarle and his

sailors, The spawn of Van Tromp heat weather andlee, For chain shot was first us'd; they all scamper'd

like tailors, And our tars from that moment were lords of

the sea.

lay flat !

the navy;

In seventy-two the Mynheers cry'd peccavi,

When his fatal time came, gallant Sandwich But 'twas famn'd ninety-two made the pride of Don't you know there's a glorious song about that? To sev’nteen hundred and two in my history

next I go, When the English and Dutch, under bold Sir

George Rooke,
Beat the Spaniards and French in the harbour of

Forty-eight sail in all blow'd up, and took.

Then hooraw, &c.


In the year forty-four, Admirals Warren and

Anson Beat the French; so did Hawke, only two

ships remaiu’d. Boscawen's proud feet tifty-five saw advancing; And, in fifty-eight, Pocock two victories ob

tain'd, But the

year fifty-nine was the noblest then going, When an English invasion was all the world's


Then La Clue off the Straits was well bang‘d by

Boscawen; And Conflans run a lee-shore by bold Hawke.

Then hooraw, &c.

In eighty bold Rodney well tickled Langara;

Eighty-one saw Ilyde Parker so gloriously shine; But next year Count de Grasse, in the Ville de

Paris, Wastaken, when so gallantly we broke the line. But all this to the war is nothing comparable, Though we beat dons, mounseers, and myn

heers, to some tune, My Lord Howe led the way, by a victory terrible, OffUshant in the morn, ninety-four, first of June.

Then hooraw, &c. In June ninety-five, brave Cornwallis did service;

So did Bridport, and allon't was done in a week; But Valentine's day the next year, and great Jervis,

No pen can describe, nor no lingo cari speak.


Yet October the eleventh, the same year, for liard

fighting, Was the best brush of all; when from Cama

perdown's shore, Brave Duncan so nobly Dutch treach’ry requiting, Brought their fleet to an anchor all snug at the Nore.

Then hooraw, &c.

But, as if English tars, to their country so hearty,

Were determin'd still honour on honour to pile, Ninety-eight, first of August, did up Buonaparte, By the wonders that Nelson perform'd at the

Nile. But, Lord, how I talk, e'nt the nation bestowing

A pillar to tell about tars and their lives? And 'tis gloriously done! for to them 'tis allowing That we've laws, and religion, and children and wives.

Then hooraw, &c.

AS S pensive one night in my garret I sat,

My last shilling produc'd on the table; That advent'rer, cried I, might a hist’ry relate,

If to think and to speak it were able. Whether fancy or magic,'twas play'd me the freak,

The face seem'd with life to be filling; And cried, instantly speaking, or seeming to Pay attention to me, thy last shilling. (speak, I was once the last coint, of the law, a sad limb,

Who in cheating was ne'er known to faulter; Till at length brought to Justice, the law cheated

him, And he paid me to buy him a halter. A jack ţar, all his rhino but me, at an end,

With a pleasure both hearty and willing, Tho' hungry himself, to a poor distress'd friend,

Wish'd it hundreds, and gave his last shilling. Twas the wife of his messmate, whose glistening

eye, With pleasure ran o'er as she view'd me; She chang'd me for bread, as her child she heard

cry, And at parting with tears she bedew'd me. BatI've other scenes known, riot leading the way,


families chilling; Where rakes in their revels, the piper to pay, Have spurn'd me, their best friend and last


Pale want,

Thou thyself hast been thoughtless, for profligates

bail, But to-morrow all cares shalt thou bury; When my little hist’ry thou offers for sale,

In the interim spend me, and be merry: No, never, cried I ; thou’rt my Mentor, my muse,

And grateful thy dictates fulfilling ;I'll hoard thee in my heart: thus men counselrefuse,

Till the lecture comes from the last shilling.


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