A New Song on the Blandford Privateer
Ye seamen who’ve a mind to go in pursuit of new adventures,
Repair on board the Blandford, with Captain Stonehouse enter,
Who cruizing goes to meet his foes, such pastime sure must please us,
We’ll prizes make of all we take; this will to fortune raise us.
Here is our chief encouragement, our ship belongs to Bristol,
Poor Londoners when coming home, they surely will be press’d all:
We’ve no such fear when home we steer with prizes under convoy,
We’ll frolick round all Bristol town, sweet liberty we enjoy.
Why should we here our time delay, in London void of pleasure,
Let’s haste away to Biscay Bay, and ransack there for treasure.
Here we must creep and play bo-peep, to shun the damn’d press masters,
We live in strife, even die in life, confin’d by catch-pole bastards.
A health to Captain Stonehouse, success attend the Blandford,
Five guineas is advanced us, come then let us enter on board;
With the Blandford’s guns we’ll smoak the Dons, their ragged staff we’ll humble,
Jack Frenchmen too shall cry morbleu, we’ll give them cause to grumble.
Come fill your flowing glasses, let us drink and be merry;
Take leave of all your lasses, we can no longer tarry;
Girls, never fear, ye soon shall hear of the Blandford’s safe arrival,
To Bristol town then haste ye down, your sweethearts to revive all.