Page:Three songs (16).pdf/7

7

And how could he his fury allay,
 While the Le Picque alongſide did advance
For our three maſt being ſhot away,
 When we grappl'd her cloſe to the blanch
Our foremaſt and mizen being gone.
 The Frenchmen they thought us their own
And with Vvie Republic they ſung
 We thought they would never have done,
And we join'd in their ſong of diſmay,
 With a ſong that made them all dance,
And not a falſe note was there play'd
 By the jolly brave tars of the blanch.
When they found 'twas in vain for to ſtand,
 They cried out for quarter amain,
Although the advantage they had,
 Still Britons are lords of the main.
So puſh round the grog let it paſs,
 Since they found us true hearted & ſtaunch
And each lad with his favourite laſs,
 Drink ſucceſs to the tars of the blanch,

The cheering Bowel.

COME, join me, ilka ſocial ſoul,
  Wha taſtes o' cheering pleaſures,
Behold the reaming nappy bowl,
  An' hearken to its treaſures.
The cauld unfeeling heart it warms,
  The wiſeſt head it brightens;