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The fifteenth of September,the morning being clear;When twenty-two sail of the line,to leeward did appear.
All hands, all hands did rattle,a glorious sight to seeUnto the fight prepar'd my boys,like lions bold and free.
We steer'd unto the French fleet,as nigh as we could layTill twelve of them engaged us,and that most speedily.
They made a bloody battle,the like was never seen,The first broadside we gave them, boys,we lait them on their c'reen
Oh! that is a glorious broadside,our Admiral replies,Now give them such another,their ships will be a prize.
Like thunder in the French fleet,our cannons they did roar,We sunk the pride of France, my boys,all on their native shore.
O don't you see the pride of France,to the depths is going down,With many a dismal sigh, Sir,and many a grievous groan.
