Bold Clinton by land Did quietly stand While I made a thundering clatter; But the channel was deep, So he only could peep And not venture over the water. De’el take ’em; their shot Came so swift and so hot, And the cowardly dogs stood so stiff, sirs, That I put ship about, And was glad to get out, Or they would not have left me a skiff, sirs. Now bold as a Turk I proceed to New York, Where with Clinton and Howe you may find me. I’ve the wind in my tail, And am hoisting my sail, To leave Sullivan’s Island behind me. But, my lords, do not fear, For before the next year, Although a small island could fret us, The continent whole We shall take, by my soul, If the cowardly Yankees will let us. [_THE CRUISERS._] A NEW SONG, ADAPTED TO THE TIMES. [To the Tune of _A Hunting we will go!_ = ‘_The Dusky Night_.’] Behold, upon the swelling wave, with streaming pendants gay, Our gallant ship invites the brave, while glory leads the way. _And a-cruising we will go, oho! oho! oho! A-cruising we will go, oho! and a-cruising we will go!_ Ye beauteous maids, your smiles bestow; for if you prove unkind How can we hope to beat the foe? We leave our hearts behind. _When a-cruising we shall go, oho! oho! oho! etc._ See Keppel’s flag once more display’d; upon the deck he stands; Old England’s glory ne’er can fade or tarnish in his hands. _So a-cruising we will go, etc._ Be England to herself but true, to France defiance hurl’d, Give peace, America, with you, and war with all the world. _And a-cruising we will go, etc._ _ON BOARD OF THE ‘ARETHUSA.’_ Come, all ye jolly sailors bold, Whose hearts are cast in honour’s mould, While British glory I unfold Huzza to the _Arethusa_! She is a frigate tight and brave As ever stemm’d the dashing wave: Her men are staunch To their fav’rite launch; And when the foe shall meet our fire, Sooner than strike we’ll all expire On board of the _Arethusa_. ’Twas with the spring fleet she went out, The English Channel to cruize about, When four French sail, in show so stout, Bore down on the _Arethusa_. The fam’d _Belle Poule_ straight ahead did lie: The _Arethusa_ seem’d to fly; Not a sheet nor a tack Or a brace did she slack, Tho’ the Frenchmen laugh’d, and thought it stuff, But they knew not the handful of men how tough On board of the _Arethusa_.