When the black king we all come before, He stroked his long beard, and by Mahomet he swore, ‘They are all stout and able and fit for the hoe, Pray to my gardens, pray let them go.’ We had cruel Moors our drivers to be, By the dawn of the day at the hoe we must be; Untill four o’clock in the afternoon, Without any remission, boys, work was our doom. If that you offer for to strike a Moor, Straightway to the king they will have you before, Where they will basternade you till you have your fill, If that will not do, your blood they will spill. So now in Morocco we shall remain, Untill our ambassador cross[es] the main; Where our ransom he’ll bring, and soon set us free, And then to Gibraltar we’ll go speedily. So now, my brave boys, to old England we’re [bound], We will have store of liquors our sorrow to drown. We will drink a good health, success never fall [_sic_] [Bad] cess to the bawd and the whores of Kingsale. _GILCHRIST [AND] HOTHAM’S BRAVERY: A NEW SONG._ On their taking a large French ship of forty guns after a bloody engagement of three hours, and bringing her into Yarmouth. You heroes of England, I pray you attend Unto these new verses, which lately were penn’d; It’s of a bloody battle, I tell you plain, Fought by Captain Hotham on the raging main. His ship she is called _Melampe_ by name, Of thirty-six guns, a fine frigate of fame; As he was a cruising one day by great chance, He espied a frigate belonging to France Who many rich prizes from England had ta’en, When Hotham espied her on the raging main. ‘I’m glad that I’ve found her,’ he then did reply; ‘Thou shalt go to England, or else by thee I’ll die.’ The wind being fair, we soon her overtook, She was full of men, and boldly they look; She turned then upon us, with abundance of pride, And instantly gave us a thundering broadside. We gave them another, as good as they sent; To take, or be taken, was our full intent. Their metal was heavy, yet we did not care, But stood to our quarters, and did them not fear. Like true British heroes our guns we did play, ‘Fight boldly,’ says Hotham, ‘we shall win the day. When as she is ta’en, for your valour so rare, Ev’ry man in the ship shall have his just share.’ The _Southampton_ she then triumphant did ride, Brave Gilchrist he gave them a warming broadside. With true British courage our guns we did load, Which brought down her masts close by the board. Upon Gilchrist’s shoulder a ball did graze; But the wound was not fatal, the Lord be prais’d; And tho’ he was so wounded, he smiling did say, ‘She is so disabled, she can’t run away.’