‘Cheer up, golden boys; we are never the worse, Tho’ sh’as pour’d in a broad-side upon us; She only has rak’d us a little: no force, Jolly lads, have the enemy done us. Their turn shall be next. Port easy, edge nigh her; Be sure bear your guns to a tittle. God give us good luck, and now, gunner, give fire. Zounds! starboard; now shear off a little. ‘Huzza! my good lads; that was done to our mind. She’s our own; we shall certainly have her. See, see, she bears up with a stiff gale of wind, That her leaks may be stopped which we gave her. Port, port, for she shoots ahead from us apace; Hoist the topsail and bear briskly after; Now, gunner, with good store of langril and case Let the guns be all loaded for slaughter. ‘Thus, thus; keep her thus; well steer’d, my good boys, I find we shall soon be upon her. Now, lads, for the gold that’s aboard of the prize; It will all be your own when you’ve won her. Port easy, edge tow’rds her, and run up her side. Now under our lee we have got her; As stout as she seems we shall humble her pride. Now, gunner, give fire and have at her. ‘See, see how the enemy lye heads and points. Our shot have done great execution; We have shatter’d their limbs, and so mangled their joints That they are all in a bloody confusion. Now board ’em, my lads; see you[r]lashes are clear; Huzza! and couragiously enter. I hope we shall find e’ery Brittan that’s here Will be bold in so brave an adventure. ‘How they hide between decks; by their skulking they show That the French are but puny bravadoes. Wounds! cut up her hatches, and ply ’em below With your stinkpots and hand granadoes. Avast: they submit and cry out for their lives. Good quarter we’re ready to grant ye. If you’ll lay down your arms, and come out of your hives, And obey me as I shall command ye.’ “Yea, yea, we surrender.” ‘Then haul down your sails, And furl ’em without opposition; For he that crys “Quarter,” and after rebels, Shall be hanged without any compassion. Now loose all your lashings and shear off the ship. We are clear. Go and hoist out the shallop. Bring the pris’ners on board, but not load her too deep, Least the ocean should swallow ye all up.’ ‘Be sure you take care of the captain and those In commission, and civilly use ’em; For tho’ they are pris’ners, as well as our foes, ’Tis beneath British souls to abuse ’em. Good fortune to them the success might have gave; Let us therefore respectfully treat ’em; For tho’ they are conquered they yet may be brave, Tho’ but cowards to those who have beat ’em,