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I have seen the canon’s glaring flash,
and heard the murdering roar,
But now I am turned adrift,
to starve on my native shore.
The British Seamen’s valour
to all the world is known,
We conquer still where’er we go,
the actros's all our own.
The Metering of haughty Gaul,
triumphantly we bore;
But now we are turn’d adrift,
to starve on our native shore.
Should hostile fleets e'er venture,
to sail the raging main,
True hearts of oak we British tars
we’d push them back again;
We'll bravely bring their ships to port,
as we have we done before;
So help us when we are in want
on our own native shore.
FINIS
