“HOW many?” said our good Captain. <br /> “Twenty sail and more.” <br /> We were homeward bound, <br /> Scudding in a gale with our jib towards the Nore. <br /> Right athwart our tack, <br /> The foe came thick and black, <br />Like Hell-birds and foul weather—you might count them by the score. <br /> <br /> The Betsy Jane did slack <br /> To see the game in view. <br /> They knew the Union-Jack, <br /> And the tyrant’s flag we knew! <br />Our Captain shouted “Clear the decks!” and the Bo’sun’s whistle blew. <br /> <br /> Then our gallant Captain, <br /> With his hand he seiz’d the wheel, <br /> And pointed with his stump to the middle of the foe. <br /> “Hurray, lads, in we go!” <br /> (You should hear the British cheer, <br /> Fore and aft.) <br /> <br /> “There are twenty sail,” sang he, <br /> “But little Betsy Jane bobs to nothing on the sea!” <br /> (You should hear the British cheer, <br /> Fore and aft.) <br /> <br /> “See you ugly craft <br /> With the pennon at her main! <br /> Hurrah, my merry boys, <br /> There goes the Betsy Jane!” <br /> (You should hear the British cheer, <br /> Fore and aft.) <br /> <br />The foe, he beats to quarters, and the Russian bugles sound; <br /> And the little Betsy Jane she leaps upon the sea. <br /> “Port and starboard!” cried our Captain; <br /> “Pay it in, my hearts!” sang he. <br /> <br /> “We ’re old England’s sons, <br /> And we ’ll fight for her to-day!” <br /> (You should hear the British cheer. <br /> Fore and aft.) <br /> “Fire away!” <br /> In she runs, <br /> And her guns <br /> Thunder round.<br /><br />Sydney Thompson Dobell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sea-ballad-from/
