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To the wooden walls of Britain ſtraight we'll repair,
You cowardly Frenchmen and Spaniards beware,
The admiral's a-coming, we'll ſoon get relief,
We'll make you return what ye ſtole like a thief,
While the Lion is rouſed he'll be your whole chief,
On board of a man of war.
Now ſince brave Vincent is ſailing the deep,
We'll make them cry marblew wherever we weet,
At the bounce of a cannon and beat of a drum,
We'll frighten all our enemies wherever we come,
To ſerve royal George we will die by the gun,
On board of a man of war.
Come all you brave failors and boldly advance,
For it is high time to conquer proud Frances
Take courage my hearts, & our coaſts we will clear,
Their ſides we'll ſhatter, & their rigging we'll tear,
And thus we'll rejoice while they die in deſpair,
On board of a man of war.
Take courage my lads and don't be afraid,
The French to attack for the good of our trade,
While trempets do ſound and the cannons do roar,
Our ſhot like the hail upon them we'll pour,
And thus we'll rejoice while they die in deſpair,
On board of a man of war.
When we return to the Old Britiſh ſhore,
With our golden priz s, we'll drink, ſing and roar,
While trumpets do ſound, and bells they do ring,
Good tidings of victory to Britain do bring,
At every huzza, we cry, God ſave the King,
On board of a man of war.
Glaſgow, Printed by J. & M. Robertſon,
Saltmarket, 1801,
