Every ship in the line sent two seamen so brave, Whom the goddess receiv’d with a smile: They assured her that if they were treated like men They would still guard her favourite isle. ‘Go on, my brave sons, in the steps you now tread, Be virtue your guide and your guard, And God, who rules over the land and the sea, Will your honest endeavours reward.’ The Genius of Ireland came in with her harp, She saluted fair Freedom with tears, They man’d the yards to welcome her o’er, And every ship gave three cheers. Success to the seventeen united bright stars, Let their praise echo round every shore, And the fifteenth of April will ne’er be forgot Till Britannia and Freedom’s no more. _BRITISH TARS REWARDED._ The tars of Old England have long toil’d in vain, From the time of King Charles down to the present reign; But their royal master their wages doth raise, So join, British sailors, in King George’s praise. The fleet of Lord Bridport, the terror of France, Petition’d the throne that their pay might advance. Their petitions were granted, each grievance redress’d, In the heart of each seaman great George he is bless’d. No longer neglected, no longer forlorn, Brave seamen will wander, dejected, our scorn; Their petitions are granted, each grievance made known Soon met with redress at the foot of the throne. Cheer, cheer, British seamen, your sails now unfurl, Against our proud foes soon defiance we’ll hurl; Our toils are rewarded, advanc’d is our pay. Success to those seamen who gain’d us the day! Adieu, pretty Nancy of Portsmouth, adieu! When your William is absent, I pray then be true. To fight for our king and our country we go; Our toils are rewarded, we’ll face the proud foe. Farewell to our children; farewell, dearest wives! We don’t leave you distress’d, tho’ we venture our lives: Our pay is advanced, which you shall receive; Then dry up each tear, girls, and cease for to grieve. Then, my boys, hoist your sails, to Old England adieu, No longer oppressed, to you we’ll prove true: You shall find that a tar is both grateful and brave-- We’ll die, but our king and our country we’ll save. Three cheers, lads! three cheers, lads! we lose sight of land. In defence of our country we’ll join heart and hand; And when we return, boys, we’ll drink, dance and sing With wives and with sweethearts, so God save the King! _A NEW SONG ON PARKER THE DELEGATE, HEAD OF THE MUTINY AT SHEERNESS._ To the Tune of _The Vicar of Bray_