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Our Captain lying bleeding,
unto his men did ſay,
Give her another broadſide,
we'll show them British play.
We gave to them a broadſide,
likewiſe three British cheers,
And down her colours quickly came
to the Polly Privateer.
So now this prize we've taken boys:
from Dunkirk she ſet ſail,
To rob our British merchant Ships,
upon the raging main;
Her name was the La Cæfar,
of forty guns 'tis clear,
To Liverpool she was brought my boys,
by the Pully Privateer.
The Polly she's got twenty kill'd,
the La Cæfar forty-one,
Makes many a mother cry aloud,
Alas! my darling ſon!
And alſo their poor widows
they are left in diſtreſs;
Likewiſe their dear children,
they are left fatherleſs.
