On Board of the ‘Arethusa.’
Come, all ye jolly sailors bold,
Whose hearts are cast in honour’s mould,
While British glory I unfold
Huzza to the Arethusa!
She is a frigate tight and brave
As ever stemm’d the dashing wave:
Her men are staunch
To their fav’rite launch;
And when the foe shall meet our fire,
Sooner than strike we’ll all expire
On board of the Arethusa.
’Twas with the spring fleet she went out,
The English Channel to cruize about,
When four French sail, in show so stout,
Bore down on the Arethusa.
The fam’d Belle Poule straight ahead did lie:
The Arethusa seem’d to fly;
Not a sheet nor a tack
Or a brace did she slack,
Tho’ the Frenchmen laugh’d, and thought it stuff,
But they knew not the handful of men how tough
On board of the Arethusa.
On deck five hundred men did dance,
The stoutest they could find in France;
We with two hundred did advance,
On board of the Arethusa.
Our captain hail’d the Frenchman, ‘Ho!’
The Frenchman then cried out, ‘Hallo!’
‘Bear down; d’ye see?
To our admiral’s lee.’
‘No, no,’ says the Frenchman, ‘that can’t be.’
‘Then I must lug you along with me,’
Says the saucy Arethusa.
The fight was off the Frenchman’s land.
We forc’d them back upon the strand;
For we fought till not a stick would stand
Of the gallant Arethusa.
And, now we have driven the foe ashore,
Never to fight with Britons more,
Let each fill a glass
To his favourite lass;
A health to the captain and officers true
And all that belong to the jovial crew
On board of the Arethusa.