Great Britain -- History, Naval -- Poetry; Sea songs -- Great Britain
As we was sailing on the main,
Well laded with great store of gain,
We was in danger to be ta’en:
Five pirates ships appeared,
Who sailed up with courage bold,
As if they would not be contrould;
But we brave noble hearts of gold
Their courage never feared.
We soon did understand their will,
And therefore used our chiefest skill,
Resolving there our blood to spill
Rather than lose our _Cæsar_:
We vow’d she should not be their prey,
And therefore, boys, we show’d them play.
It was upon the Sabbath day:
No pirates could appease her.
The master, flourishing his sword,
Did comfort to us all afford,
Both seamen, souldiers then on board,
True courage to awaken;
Then with one voice we all did cry,
‘We are resolved to make them fly,
Or in the _Cæsar_ we will dye,
Rather than to be taken.’
Before the fight we this did do:
Our bread into the sea we threw,
To make room for the whole ship’s crew
To fight and keep foes under:
This truth can never be deny’d,
We soon did quell their haughty pride
By giving them a full broadside:
Our cannons roar’d like thunder.
Full five long hours there we fought,
In the brave _Cæsar_, fierce and stout;
At length we put them to the rout
Who aimed at our treasure:
We pour’d them in whole showers of lead,
So that they tumbled down for dead
And in the ocean made their bed,
Where they may lie their leisure.
Their admiral did want to be
Aboard of _Cæsar_, this we see,
That they might have rich plunder free,
The thing which they delight in:
But yet there was not one that dare
To come on board of _Cæsar_ there;
They knew their lives we would not spare,
So fierce we was for fighting.
Good Fortune she our courage crown’d,
Or else aboard on us they’d found
The sum of fourscore thousand pound,
Besides all other lading:
Could they but once have seen us fall,
Their booty then had not been small,
Two hundred thousand pound in all;
This would have spoil’d our trading.
I hope we gave them all their due,
Yet sav’d our coyn and cargo too.
Believe me, this is perfect true,
It is no feigned story:
For though our foes were five to one,
Yet we at last did make them run:
And when we see our work was done
To God we gave the glory,
Who did indeed our rights maintain;
For in this skirmish on the main
Of us there was but one man slain,
And seven others wounded:
But those that sought our overthrow,
They lost a many more, we know.
Thus Providence did kindness show
When we was so surrounded.
_A COPY OF VERSES, COMPOSED BY CAPTAIN HENRY EVERY, LATELY GONE TO SEA
TO SEEK HIS FORTUNE._
To the Tune of _The Two English Travellers_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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