 | The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth |  |
169
SARATOGA AND MORGIANNA.
Come, banish all your petty jars,
And shout your joy in loud huzzas,
In honor of Columbia's tars,
Whose valor ne'er shall fail her;
Let echo answer to the strain,
And pass the tidings o'er the main,
That British pride,
Which we deride,
Again is humbled on the tide,
By Freedom's gallant sailor.
And shout your joy in loud huzzas,
In honor of Columbia's tars,
Whose valor ne'er shall fail her;
Let echo answer to the strain,
And pass the tidings o'er the main,
That British pride,
Which we deride,
Again is humbled on the tide,
By Freedom's gallant sailor.
Once Saratoga swelled the song,
As Britain will remember long,
Burgoyne with seven thousand strong,
In fight could not avail her;
Now Saratoga on the main,
Has shown that Britains claim is vain,
To rule the sea
By nature free—
'T is what shall never, never be,
Says every Yankee sailor.
As Britain will remember long,
Burgoyne with seven thousand strong,
In fight could not avail her;
Now Saratoga on the main,
Has shown that Britains claim is vain,
To rule the sea
By nature free—
'T is what shall never, never be,
Says every Yankee sailor.
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This Saratoga you shall hear,
Was fitted out a privateer,
And manned by tars unknown to fear,
From danger never paler;
To die or conquer all agreed—
To die or valiantly succeed!
To nobly die,
But never fly
While George's cross was waving high,
'T was like a Yankee sailor.
Was fitted out a privateer,
And manned by tars unknown to fear,
From danger never paler;
To die or conquer all agreed—
To die or valiantly succeed!
To nobly die,
But never fly
While George's cross was waving high,
'T was like a Yankee sailor.
They hoisted sail, and cruised afar,
To aid their country in the war,
And many a valiant British tar
Has reason to bewail her;
They fought and captured all they met,
While Britons vainly fume and fret;
Each gallant prize
In safety lies,
While far to sea for more she flies,
To enrich a Yankee sailor.
To aid their country in the war,
And many a valiant British tar
Has reason to bewail her;
They fought and captured all they met,
While Britons vainly fume and fret;
Each gallant prize
In safety lies,
While far to sea for more she flies,
To enrich a Yankee sailor.
At length they spy a worthier mark,
To try their little, gallant bark—
Behold a ship of war! and, hark!
They arrogantly hail her!
The Saratoga quick replies,
In language that astounds the skies;
While Freedom's sons
Still serve their guns,
'Till called “away,” each boarder runs,
And each, a Yankee sailor.
To try their little, gallant bark—
Behold a ship of war! and, hark!
They arrogantly hail her!
The Saratoga quick replies,
In language that astounds the skies;
171
Still serve their guns,
'Till called “away,” each boarder runs,
And each, a Yankee sailor.
The foe has eighteen guns, or more,
The Saratoga only four:
Away! my lads, and board once more,
And fiercely still assail her.
Huzza, huzza, boys! see, she strikes!
Now board your prize without your pikes,
And succor those
No longer foes
Whose generous blood in duty flows,
And save a brother sailor.
The Saratoga only four:
Away! my lads, and board once more,
And fiercely still assail her.
Huzza, huzza, boys! see, she strikes!
Now board your prize without your pikes,
And succor those
No longer foes
Whose generous blood in duty flows,
And save a brother sailor.
| The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth | |