III

THE BATTLE OF BOULOGNE

    On the second day of August, eighteen hundred and one,
    We sailed with Lord Nelson to the port of Boulogne,
    For to cut out their shipping, which was all in vain,
    For to our misfortune, they were all moored and chained.

    Our boats being well mann’d, at eleven at night,
    For to cut out their shipping, except they would fight,
    But the grape from their batteries so smartly did play,
    Nine hundred brave seamen killed and wounded there lay.

    We hoisted our colours, and so boldly them did spread,
    With a British flag flying at our royal mast head,
    For the honour of England, we will always maintain,
    While bold British seamen plough the watery main.

    Exposed to the fire of the enemy she lay,
    While ninety bright pieces of cannon did play,
    Where many a brave seaman then lay in his gore,
    And the shot from their batteries so smartly did pour.

    Our noble commander, with heart full of grief,
    Used every endeavour to afford us relief,
    No ship could assist us, as well you may know,
    In this wounded condition, we were tossed to and fro.

    And you who relieve us, the Lord will you bless,
    For relieving poor sailors in time of distress,
    May the Lord put an end to all cruel wars,
    And send peace and contentment to all British tars.

IV

THE BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR

Arise, ye sons of Britain, in chorus join and sing,
Great and joyful news is come unto our Royal King,
An engagement we have had by sea,
With France and Spain, our enemy,
And we’ve gain’d a glorious victory,

                Again, my brave boys.

On the 21st of October, at the rising of the sun,
We form’d the line for action, every man to his gun,
Brave Nelson to his men did say,
The Lord will prosper us this day,
Give them a broadside, fire away,

                My true British boys.

Broadside after broadside our cannon balls did fly,
The small shot, like hailstones, upon the deck did lie,
Their masts and rigging we shot away,
Besides some thousands on that day,
Were killed and wounded in the fray,

                On both sides, brave boys.

The Lord reward brave Nelson, and protect his soul,
Nineteen sail the combin’d fleets lost in the whole;
Which made the French for mercy call;
Nelson was slain by a musket ball. 

                Mourn, Britons, mourn.

Each brave commander, in tears did shake his head,
Their grief was no relief, when Nelson he was dead;
It was by a fatal musket ball,
Which caus’d our hero for to fall. 
He cried, Fight on, God bless you all,

                My brave British tars.