We sail’d up to their batteries as close as we could lay, Our guns from the top and poop aloud did play, Which made the French cry ‘Morbleu! Diable! what shall we do? Here comes bold Sawyer and all his crew, _They’re all British boys_.’ Then, follow’d by the _Dunkirk_ and _Torbay_, The guns aloud did rattle and shells did play, Which made the French their batteries shun, And from their trenches for to run, The flag was struck, the fight was done, _O huzza! my British boys_. The _Nassau_ and _Dunkirk_ and _Torbay_ of renown, Three as fine ships as belong to the crown, The only ships that fought so free, In taking of the isle of Goree, _They are all British boys_. Boast not of Frenchmen nor yet of Maclome, [_sic_] Sawyer’s as big a hero as ever you did hear, Whilst the shot around him did flee, In engaging twice the isle of Goree, As valiant men as ever you see, _They are all British boys_. Here’s a health to King George our sovereign majesty, Likewise to bold Sawyer that fought the French so free, Our officers and all our crew Are valiant men as e’er you knew, So here’s a health to each true blue, _My brave British boys_. _CAPTAIN BARTON’S DISTRESS ON BOARD THE LICHFIELD, BEING UNDER SLAVERY SEVENTEEN MONTHS AND FOURTEEN DAYS._ Come all you brave seamen that plows on the main, Give ear to my story [I’m] true to maintain; Concerning the _Lichfield_ that was cast away On the Barbary shore by the dawn of the day. The tenth of November, the weather being fine, We sailed from Kingsale, five ships of the line, With two bombs and two frigates with transports also, We was bound unto Goree to fight our proud foe. The 29th of November, by dawn of the light, We spied land that put us in a fright, We strove for to weather, but we run quite aground, The seas mountain high made our sorrow abound. Our mast we cut away, our wreck for to ease, And being exposed to the mercy of the seas; Where one hundred and thirty poor seamen did die, Whilst we all for mercy most loudly did cry. Two hundred and twenty of us got on shore; No sooner we landed but strip’d by the Moors, Without any subsistence but dead hogs and sheep, That was drove on shore by the sea from the ship. For seven days together we thus did remain, Our bodys quite naked for to increase our pain; Till some Christian merchant that lives in the land, [He] sent us relief by his bountiful hand [_sic_], Unto our fleet the same fate did share, [_sic_] Then unto Morocco we all marched there, Where they are captives in slavery to be, Till old England thought proper for to set them free.