Songs for Sailors :: :: University of Virginia Library

Oh, there never yet was one
That for England fired a gun
That was braver than the hero to whom I give this song.
'Tis of Rodney, lads, I'll sing,
For I hold it not the thing
That sailors, with neglect, his glorious fame should wrong.

'Twas in seventeen eighty-two
That our Admiral staunch and true,
With thirty-six good liners, lay in Gros Islet Bay;
When Byron's streamers flew
‘De Grasse's fleet's in view’
And Sir George threw out the signal for all at once to weigh.

For Jamaica, he had found
The French with troops were bound,
So with all our canvas spread, we gave the Mounseers chase.
We saw their lights that night,
And at dawn it seemed all right;
We were close upon their convoy, and gaining in the race.

Then our van with gallant Hood
Straight for their centre stood,
While, by Domenica's heights becalmed, we'd not yet caught the breeze;
And De Grasse no longer ran,
For he thought, our dauntless van,
Before we could come up, he should make them strike with ease.

A Briton every inch,
Sir Samuel didn't flinch;
For an hour and more, his squadron, it fought them one to three;
Then the wind at last we caught,
And with all sails set and taut,
We cracked along, for sharp set for the gallant game were we.

But, for us, they wouldn't stay;
The Frenchman stretched away
Till, near hull down to windward, his thirty-three had got;
When just then, by good luck
Two with their topmasts struck,
Brought him up to save the pair that were crippled by our shot.

To help them he stood fast,
So we weathered them at last;
The choice was in our hands to let him fight or run,
And our Admiral with delight
Flew the signal for close fight,
And by half-past seven the whole of us were at them, gun to gun.

Then standing through their roar,
We cut their line and wore;
Three ships beyond their Admiral, we doubled down their rear.
Hurrah! the work was done,
We had them one by one;
And as flag on flag struck to us, we gave them cheer on cheer.

The Glorient was tough,
And the Cæsar stout enough,
As her white flag fluttered down, her mast went by her side;
But double all in size,
And in worth, was one grand prize—
De Grasse's Ville de Paris, the Frenchmen's boast and pride.

Proud might brave Rodney look,
One we sunk and seven we took;
Well, when the news reached home, might bonfires light the night;
Well might they pay and thank
With pension, praise, and rank,
Our Admiral of Admirals who fought and won that fight.

So men your memories jog,
When round go song and grog,
And while your Nelson, Duncan, and Collingwood you name,
Now don't forget the praise,
Of this hero of old days,
A match for all the bravest that have won us rule and fame.