Young lasses' song, or, What wou'd a young lassie do wi' an auld man/Lord Nelson's Garland

LORD NELSON'S GARLAND.

To England's fame another ray
Is added, boys, this glorious day!
And ſad deſpair is on its way
To gall the bold invader,
Who ſwore he would our iſle ſubdue;
Said Nelſon, 'D—me if you do!
'For ⟨ſhould⟩ your fleet
'With Britain's meet,
'We'll make you yield like daſtard ſlaves:
'For Britain ſtill muſt rule the waves,
In ſpite of gaſconaders.'

In Cadiz harbour long confin'd,
The French and Spauiſh fleet combin'd,
⟨Came⟩ out, to future evil blind,
Nor dreamt we were ſo near, boys.
Brave Nelſon's heart it beat with glee;
'Now is your time, my boys,' ſaid he,
'To give the blow,
'Lay Frenchmen low:
'Of twenty, boys, we may make ſure,
'And honours for that King ⟨ſecure⟩,
'Whom Britain doth revere, boys.'

To arms we flew, their line was broke,
And all around was loſt in ſmoke,
While Nelſon gave the potent ſtroke
That cruſh'd their proud armada.
But fate for us had ill in ſtore,
A lofs which we muſt e'er deplore;
A fatal ſhot,
Oh! cruel lot!
Wounded the hero of the Nile,
While envy did malignant ſmile,
On board the Trinidada.

Then to revenge his loſs let's fly,
Like Britons conquer, boys, or die,
For dearly's earn'd the ⟨victory⟩
Which by his death is won, boys;
But, tho' he dies, his name ſhall live;
In future ages ardour give;
Our tars inſpire
With martial ire,
While to each Briton ever dear,
They'll ſigh, and drop a briny tear,
To think his race is run, boys.

F I N I S.

———o———

Falkirk—T. Johnston, Printer.