The decks were cleared, the hammocks stowed, the boatswain pipes all hands, The tompions out, the guns well sponged, the Captain now commands; The boys who for their country fight, Their words, "Free Trade and Sailor's Rights!" Three times they cheered with all their might, Those brave Yankee boys. Now chain-shot, grape, and langrage pierce through her oaken sides, And many a gallant sailor's blood runs purpling in the tides; While death flew nimbly o'er their decks, Some lost their legs, and some their necks, And Glory's wreath our ship be-decks, For brave Yankee boys. My boys, the proud St. George's Cross, the stripes above it wave, And busy are our gen'rous tars, the conquered foe to save, Our Captain cries "Give me your hand," Then of the ship who took command But brave Yankee boys? Our enemy lost her mizzen, her main and fore-top-mast, For ev'ry shot with death was winged, which slew her men so fast, That they lost five to one in killed, And ten to one their blood was spilled, So Fate decreed and Heaven had willed, For brave Yankee boys. Then homeward steered the captive ship, now safe in port she lies, The old and young with rapture viewed our sailors' noble prize; Through seas of wine their health we'll drink, And wish them sweet-hearts, friends, and chink, Who 'fore they'd strike, will nobly sink Our brave Yankee boys. 1813. [Illustration] [Illustration] THE "UNITED STATES" AND "MACEDONIAN." (Action of 25 October, 1812.) The banner of Freedom high floated unfurled, While the silver-tipt surges in low homage curled, Flashing bright round the bow of Decatur's brave bark, In contest, an "eagle"--in chasing a "lark." The bold _United States_, Which four-and-forty rates, Will ne'er be known to yield--be known to yield or fly, Her motto is "Glory! we conquer or we die." All canvas expanded to woo the coy gale, The ship cleared for action, in chase of a sail; The foemen in view, every bosom beats high, All eager for conquest, or ready to die. The bold _United States_, Which four-and-forty rates, Will ne'er be known to yield--be known to yield or fly. Her motto is "Glory! we conquer or we die." Now havoc stands ready, with optics of flame, And battle-hounds "strain on the start" for the game; The blood demons rise on the surge for their prey, While Pity, rejected, awaits the dread fray. The bold _United States_, Which four-and-forty rates, Will ne'er be known to yield--be known to yield or fly, Her motto is "Glory! we conquer or we die."