( 3 )
But still we scorn for to complain
When by our foes surrounded.
And if in prison by chance we fall,
With loyal hearts most vigour,
We’ll cut down our en’mies one and all;
King George our King for ever!
The Sun at last, like crimson red,
Towards the West retiring,
Where lies a heap of Seamen dead,
And hundreds more expiring!
Next morn’ the fight was renew’d again,
Each Seaman bold at his station,
And boldly fought each British Tar,
For the honour of his Nation.
Now since it is the Seamen’s fate,
When peace shall bless our Nation,
For to crave assistance on the street,
Give them kind invitation.
Esteem them as your dearest friends,
Let them be a’ welcome strangers;
You cannot make too much of them,
For all their toil and dangers.
O now relieve the Seaman brave,
Be mindful of his merit;
And when again you’re plung’d in war,
He’ll show his daring spirit.
