’Twas Heath did this feat; and Greenway another, For the _Conquerant_ fell, in flames and in smother: _Old England, etc._ And Fowlis was daring, though he miss’d his prey; He flew at the _Sun_, but stoopt by the way: _Old England, etc._ But now we are making for Bay Le Hogue, Where on land, they say, are many a brogue: _Old England, etc._ These doughty wights, those true Irish Teagues Won’t let us come near ’em by several leagues: _Old England, etc._ Such gallant alliance the French much imports; They’ll save their friends’ ships, as they did their own forts: _Old England, etc._ But manning our boats, those wise ones we cozen, And burn in this bay thirteen to the dozen: _Old England, etc._ This action’s far greater than that of Lepanto, And merits alone a whole noble canto: _Old England, etc._ For, like the old Britains, our men did assail ’em In open boats, and naked we quail ’em: _Old England, etc._ We storm’d their fore-castles, their decks we did scale, And with their own canon we made ’em turn tale: _Old England, etc._ Earl Danby commanded the headmost boat, Which was in a moment from under him shot: _Old England, etc._ Then a musquet ball does graze on his shin, But still he goes on, more honour to win: _Old England, etc._ Not a captain was here but toss’d up his brands; The seamen were furies, with flames in their hands: _Old England, etc._ What bonfires we made on our Norman coast! Where William the Conqueror rules the roast: _Rules the roast, rules the roast; Where William the Conqueror rules the roast_. But now in all pomps, where great men appear, The post of honour is still in the reer: _Old England, etc._ Brave Russel can never enough be prais’d; Such trophies are owing as never were rais’d: _Old England, etc._ To his courage and conduct great honours are due: To all of the flag; the Red, White, and Blew: _Old England, etc._ To Delaval, Almonde, Shovell, Ashby, Rook, Whose names are all writ in Fame’s lasting book: _Old England, etc._ To Carter, the bold! who never can die; He only i’th’ bed of honour does lie: _Old England, etc._ His story is great, for he comes not an ace Behind Withrington in Old Chevy Chace. _Old England, etc._ Nay, he is before him, for he fought on his stumps, With joy in his face and not doleful dumps: _Old England, etc._ Stout Hastings shall live; shall ever be famed, With all our commanders, too long to be named: _Old England, etc._ What need we say more? there is no occasion; This French does excell the Spanish invasion: _Old England, etc._