'Twas the sweet hope of meeting the English that made our hearts burn,
And till we had thrashed them we vowed we would never return.
II.
But all the first month of our cruise
We saw never a thing
From the shrouds, save hundreds and hundreds
Of gulls on the wing;
And in the next dolorous month, we 'd a tempest to fight,
And had to be bailing out water by day and by night.
III.
By the third, we were driven to madness
At meeting no foe
For our thundering cannon to sweep
From the ocean. When lo!
"Hands aloft!" Captain cried. At the maintop one heard the command.
And the long Arab coast on the lee-bow intently he scanned.
IV.
Till, "God's thunder!" he cried. "Three big vessels
Bear down on us strong;
Run the guns to the ports! Blaze away!"
Shouted Bailly Suffren.
"Sharp, lads! Of our Antibes figs we will give them a taste,
And see how they like those," Captain said, "ere we offer the rest!"
