The Fourth Volume of the Writings Of the Author of the London-Spy Prose and Verse [by Edward Ward] |
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The Sea-Fight: Or, The French Prize taken.
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 | The Fourth Volume of the Writings Of the Author of the London-Spy |  |
The Sea-Fight: Or, The French Prize taken.
A Ballad.
To your Quarters, my Lads, we are now within shot,
Let your Guns be all loose in their Tackle,
Your Ports be knock'd open, and e'ery thing got,
In a right ready order for Battle.
See, see, that the Decks and the Gun-room be clear,
And take care that your Matches be lighted,
Tho' she boldly bears down, she shall find when she's near
That we Bold Brittans scorn to be frighted.
Let your Guns be all loose in their Tackle,
Your Ports be knock'd open, and e'ery thing got,
In a right ready order for Battle.
See, see, that the Decks and the Gun-room be clear,
And take care that your Matches be lighted,
Tho' she boldly bears down, she shall find when she's near
That we Bold Brittans scorn to be frighted.
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Up noise of Trumpets, be brisk, hail our Prile,
Hark she answers again with her Trumpets,
She's resolv'd to engage, to the Windward she plys,
See her Colours are out and her Drum beats.
Hold fast jolly Gunner, let Monsieur begin,
We are able, my Boys, to receive him,
If he galls us at first, when we get him close in,
We will make him submit e'er we leave him.
Hark she answers again with her Trumpets,
She's resolv'd to engage, to the Windward she plys,
See her Colours are out and her Drum beats.
Hold fast jolly Gunner, let Monsieur begin,
We are able, my Boys, to receive him,
If he galls us at first, when we get him close in,
We will make him submit e'er we leave him.
Chear up, Golden Boys, we are never the worse,
Tho' sh'as pour'd in a Broad-side upon us;
She only has rak'd us a little, no force,
Jolly Lads, have the Enemy done us,
Their turn shall be next, Port easy, edge nigh her,
Be sure bear your Guns to a tittle,
God give us good luck, and now Gunner give fire,
Zounds Starboard, now shear off a little.
Tho' sh'as pour'd in a Broad-side upon us;
She only has rak'd us a little, no force,
Jolly Lads, have the Enemy done us,
Their turn shall be next, Port easy, edge nigh her,
Be sure bear your Guns to a tittle,
God give us good luck, and now Gunner give fire,
Zounds Starboard, now shear off a little.
Huzza, my good Lads, that was done to our Mind,
She's our own, we shall certainly have her;
See, see, she bears up with a stiff gale of Wind,
That her Leaks may be stopp'd which we gave her.
Port, Port, for she shoots ahead from us apace,
Hoist the Topsail and bear briskly after,
Now Gunner with good store of Langril and Case,
Let the Guns be all loaded for Slaughter.
She's our own, we shall certainly have her;
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That her Leaks may be stopp'd which we gave her.
Port, Port, for she shoots ahead from us apace,
Hoist the Topsail and bear briskly after,
Now Gunner with good store of Langril and Case,
Let the Guns be all loaded for Slaughter.
Thus, thus, keep her thus, well steer'd, my good Boys,
I find we shall soon be upon her;
Now Lads for the Gold that's Aboard of the Prize,
It will all be your own when you've won her.
Port easy, edge tow'rds her, and run up her side,
Now under our Lee we have got her,
As stout as she seems, we shall humble her Pride,
Now Gunner give fire and have at her.
I find we shall soon be upon her;
Now Lads for the Gold that's Aboard of the Prize,
It will all be your own when you've won her.
Port easy, edge tow'rds her, and run up her side,
Now under our Lee we have got her,
As stout as she seems, we shall humble her Pride,
Now Gunner give fire and have at her.
See, see, how the Enemy lye heads and points,
Our shot have done great Execution;
We have shatter'd their Limbs, and so mangled their Joints,
That they are all in a Bloody Confusion.
Now Board 'em, my Lads, see you Lashes are clear,
Huzza, aud Couragiously enter,
I hope we shall find e'ery Brittan that's here,
Will be bold in so brave an Adventure.
Our shot have done great Execution;
We have shatter'd their Limbs, and so mangled their Joints,
That they are all in a Bloody Confusion.
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Huzza, aud Couragiously enter,
I hope we shall find e'ery Brittan that's here,
Will be bold in so brave an Adventure.
How they hide between Decks, by their skulking they show,
That the French are but puny Bravadoes;
Wounds cut up her Hatches, and ply 'em below,
With your Stinkpots and hand Granadoes.
Avast, they submit and cry out for their Lives,
Good Quarter we're ready to grant ye,
If you'll lay down your Arms, and come out of your Hives,
And obey me as I shall Command ye.
That the French are but puny Bravadoes;
Wounds cut up her Hatches, and ply 'em below,
With your Stinkpots and hand Granadoes.
Avast, they submit and cry out for their Lives,
Good Quarter we're ready to grant ye,
If you'll lay down your Arms, and come out of your Hives,
And obey me as I shall Command ye.
Yea, yea we surrender, Then haul down your Sails,
And furl 'em without Opposition;
For he that crys Quarter, and after rebels,
Shall be hang'd without any Compassion.
Now loose all your Lashings and shear off the Ship,
We are clear, go and hoist out the Shallop,
Bring the Pris'ners on Board, but not load her too deep,
Least the Ocean should swallow ye all up.
And furl 'em without Opposition;
For he that crys Quarter, and after rebels,
Shall be hang'd without any Compassion.
Now loose all your Lashings and shear off the Ship,
We are clear, go and hoist out the Shallop,
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Least the Ocean should swallow ye all up.
Besure you take care of the Captain and those
In Commission, and civilly use 'em,
For tho' they are Pris'ners, as well as our Foes,
'Tis beneath British Souls to abuse 'em.
Good Fortune to them the Success might have gave,
Let us therefore respectfully treat 'em;
For tho' they are Conquer'd, they yet may be brave,
Tho' but Cowards to those that have beat 'em.
In Commission, and civilly use 'em,
For tho' they are Pris'ners, as well as our Foes,
'Tis beneath British Souls to abuse 'em.
Good Fortune to them the Success might have gave,
Let us therefore respectfully treat 'em;
For tho' they are Conquer'd, they yet may be brave,
Tho' but Cowards to those that have beat 'em.
How chear yee, my Lads, is not this Jolly Sport,
See how Fortune invites you to fight on,
Stand in with our Prize to the next merry Port,
Tow her in for the honour of Brittan.
Now sling up the Bowl, bring an Anchor of Nantz,
Let the Doctor thank God for his Mercies,
Then we'll drink the Queen's Health to our Captives of France;
With a French Man of War at our Arses.
See how Fortune invites you to fight on,
Stand in with our Prize to the next merry Port,
Tow her in for the honour of Brittan.
Now sling up the Bowl, bring an Anchor of Nantz,
Let the Doctor thank God for his Mercies,
Then we'll drink the Queen's Health to our Captives of France;
With a French Man of War at our Arses.
FINIS.
| The Fourth Volume of the Writings Of the Author of the London-Spy | |