Lord! how it grieves our hearts full sore, To see the drowned French-men swim along the shore. Now, gallant sea-men all, adieu, _With hey, with hoe, for and a nony no_; This is the latest newes that I can write to you, _To England’s coast from Barbarie_. _THE SEAMAN’S SONG OF CAPTAIN WARD, THE FAMOUS PYRATE OF THE WORLD, AND AN ENGLISH-MAN BORN._ Tune, _The King’s going to Bulloign_. Gallants, you must understand, Captain Ward of England, A pyrate and a rover on the sea, Of late a simple fisherman In the merrry town of Feversham, Grows famous in the world now every day. From the Bay of Plimouth Sayled he towards the south, With many more of courage and of might; Christian princes have but few Such seamen, if that he were true, And would but for his King and country fight. Lusty Ward adventurously In the Straights of Barbary Did make the Turkish gallyes for to shake. Bouncing cannons fiery hot Spared not the Turks one jot, But of their lives great slaughter he did make. The islanders of Malta, With argosies upon the sea, Most proudly braved Ward unto his face But soon their pride was overthrown, And their treasures made his own, And all their men brought to a wofull case. The wealthy ships of Venice Afforded him great riches; Both gold and silver won he by his sword. Stately Spain and Portugal Against him dare not bear up sail, But gave him all the title of a lord. Golden-seated Candy, Famous France and Italy, With all the countries of the Eastern parts, If once their ships his pride with-stood, They surely all were cloath’d in blood, Such cruelty was plac’d within their hearts. The riches he hath gain’d, And by bloodshed obtained, Well may suffice for to maintain a king; His fellows all were valiant wights, Fit to be made prince’s knights, But that their lives do base dishonors bring. This wicked-gotten treasure Doth him but little pleasure; The land consumes what they have got by sea, In drunkenness and letchery, Filthy sins of sodomy, Their evil-gotten goods do wast[e] away. Such as live by thieving Have seldome-times good ending, As by the deeds of Captain Ward is shown: Being drunk amongst his drabs, His nearest friend he sometimes stabs; Such wickednesse within his heart is grown. When stormy tempest riseth, The Causer he despiseth, Still denies to pray unto the Lord. He feareth neither God nor devil, His deeds are bad, his thoughts are evil, His onley trust is still upon his sword.