We continued chasing them till the twenty-seventh day, Then about the hour of ten at noon our colours we did display. The _Shrewsbury_, Captain Lockhart, was the first that did engage, Which made our noble admirals hoist their bloody flags with rage. The _Egmont_, Captain Allen, that ship of mighty fame, She’s worthy to be called the Dread of France by name, For boldly she bore down, and twenty-eight ships engag’d, While our officers and men, boys, did show them British play. The brave Duc de Chartres came rolling in his pride, Thinking to send the _Egmont_ down with one of his broadsides; But he was mistaken, as plainly doth appear, For we gave him such a drubbing as put their hearts in fear, To speak of the _Formidable_ and give that ship her due, She stood in our behalf, boys, like Englishmen so true, The French admiral lying at our stem, thinking us for to take, But [she] gave him a broadside, which [made his heart to ache]. And at the very same time we gave them three more louder. Bold Allen cries, ‘Luff, my boys, and let us smell their powder,’ Our ship was so disabled that she would hardly steer, Which obliged us for to heave her to, our damage to repair. The French they form’d a line again, with a pretence to fight, But on purpose to deceive us and steal away by night. [Two lines missing.] Our ship she was very foul, likewise at Lisbon grounded, With fourteen brave fellows kill’d, and twenty-four was wounded, Which made us cry out, ‘Revenge,’ and made our hearts to grieve To think we could not see them, but they should us deceive. So, to conclude and end my song, I do you kindly greet To drink to our brave admirals and captains in the fleet, Likewise to Captain Allen and his officers so bold, And to his ship’s company; they’re valiant hearts of gold. _A NEW SONG IN PRAISE OF ADMIRAL KEPPEL’S FLEET._ Come, all young seamen, wherever you be, That sails with Admiral Keppel to sea, For we are the boys that are loyal and true, That fights for King George and our country too. _So, boys, fill your bumpers all round; Success to the fleet that’s outward-bound, For we are the boys that wears true blue And belong to Admiral Keppel’s crew._ But when he hoists the British flag, Not France or Spain has room to brag; He will fight the French and Spaniards too, And make Monsieur to cry, ‘Morbleu!’ _So, boys, etc._ Had Keppel but orders for to fight The French wou’d not have run away at night; No orders he had for to give them their due, Which vex’d the admiral and his brave crew. _So, boys, etc._ I wish their heads on Temple Bar, Who’d hinder bold fighting in time of war, Or else, like Jack the Painter, to be Hanged high upon Tyburn tree. _So, boys, etc._