Lord Spencer unto us these words did express: ‘Your grievance, my lads, shall soon be redress; Full provisions we have granted and a shilling a day.’ We trusted their honour, and our anchors did weigh, But the wind coming west, at St. Helens we did lay. Now Providence, resolved we should not be oppressed, For a fortnight or more kept the wind at south-west; During which time, to our great surprize, The Act was not passed to grant us supplies, But Bedford and Clarence did open our eyes. When we found from their promise they meant for to run, We resolved to force them before we had done. When the signal was made for sea to repair, We then did refuse with another loud cheer, Which made our proud rulers to quake and to fear. The murdering Colpoys, Vice-Admiral of the blue, Gave order to fire on the _London_ ship’s crew; While the enemy of Britain was ploughing the sea, He, like a base coward, let them get away When the French and their transports sailed for Bantry Bay. But at length from our king Lord Howe he was sent To redress our grievance to our full content; We received the old hero with joy as our friend, And the Act being passed we will cheerfully sing ‘Confusion to France and long live our King!’ Now, my brave boys, down Channel we steer ’Long with brave Bridport in search of Mounseer. May Heaven but grant what we crave for a boon, That these boasting invaders may out to us come, And the tune that we will play them is the ‘First of June.’ So now I must finish these lines that I have penned. I hope no true Briton at them may be offended, But remember the 15th of April, I pray, And our wives and children keep a holiday; For what April began we finish in May. Drink a health to Lord Howe in a full flowing glass, Confusion to Pitt, likewise to Dundas. The seventeen bright stars in a bumper shall roar, Their praises shall sound from shore unto shore, And they will never be forgot until Britain’s no more. _THE GENIUS OF BRITAIN._ The Genius of Britain went hovering round, For she fear’d that fair Freedom was fled; But she found to her joy that she was not quite gone, But remain’d with the fleet at Spithead. Rejoic’d at the news, to the _Charlotte_ she flew, Where fair Freedom she heard sat enthron’d: They all man’d the yards as the goddess came [in], For Britain and Freedom they own’d. The fleet hail’d the goddess with three hearty cheers As she stood on the _Charlotte’s_ gangway, She drop’d a sad tear as she look’d on her sons Who so long neglected had lay; She was led to the cabin. Fair Freedom was there, True Loyalty sat by her side; Britannia sat down in a transport of joy: ‘All hail to my heroes!’ she cry’d.