Warlike Seamen

Warlike Seamen

Come all you warlike seamen, that to the seas belong, I'll tell you of a fight, my boys, on board the Nottingham. It was of an Irish captain, his name was Somerville. With courage bold, did he control, he played his part so well.

‘Twas on the eighth of June, my boys, when at Spithead we lay On board there came an order, our anchor for to weigh. Bound for the coast of Ireland, our orders did run so: For us to cruise, and not refuse, against a daring foe.

We had not sailed many lengths at sea before a ship we spied, She being some lofty Frenchman, come a-bearing down so wide. We hailed her in French, my boys, she asked from whence we came. Our answer was “From Liverpool, and London is our name.”

“Oh pray are you some man of war, or pray, what may you be?” Oh then replied our captain, “And that you soon shall see.” “Come and strike your English colors, or else you shall bring to. Since you're so stout, you shall give out, or else we will sink you!”

The first broadside we gave to them, it caused them for to wonder. Their mainmast and their rigging, too, came a-rattling down like thunder. It drove them from their quarters, they could no longer stay; Our guns did roar, we made quite sure we showed them British play.

So now we've took that ship, my boys, God speed to us fair wind That we might sail to Plymouth town, if the heavens prove so kind. We'll drink a health unto our captain, and to all such warlike souls: To him we'll drink, and never flinch, out of our flowing bowls.

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