A YANKEE ship and a Yankee crew— | |
| Constitution, where ye bound for? | |
| Wherever, my lad, there’s fight to be had | |
| Acrost the Western ocean. | |
| |
| Our captain was married in Boston town | 5 |
| And sailed next day to sea; | |
| For all must go when the State says so; | |
| Blow high, blow low, sailed we. | |
| |
| “Now, what shall I bring for a bridal gift | |
| When my home-bound pennant flies? | 10 |
| The rarest that be on land or sea | |
| It shall be my lady’s prize.” | |
| |
| “There’s never a prize on sea or land | |
| Could bring such joy to me | |
| As my true love sound and homeward bound | 15 |
| With a king’s ship under his lee.” | |
| |
| The Western ocean is wide and deep, | |
| And wild its tempests blow, | |
| But bravely rides “Old Ironsides,” | |
| A-cruising to and fro. | 20 |
| |
| We cruised to the east and we cruised to north, | |
| And southing far went we, | |
| And at last off Cape de Verd we raised | |
| Two frigates sailing free. | |
| |
| Oh, God made man, and man made ships, | 25 |
| But God makes very few | |
| Like him who sailed our ship that day, | |
| And fought her, one to two. | |
| |
| He gained the weather-gage of both, | |
| He held them both a-lee; | 30 |
| And gun for gun, till set of sun, | |
| He spoke them fair and free; | |
| |
| Till the night-fog fell on spar and sail, | |
| And ship, and sea, and shore, | |
| And our only aim was the bursting flame | 35 |
| And the hidden cannon’s roar. | |
| |
| Then a long rift in the mist showed up | |
| The stout Cyane, close-hauled | |
| To swing in our wake and our quarter rake, | |
| And a boasting Briton bawled: | 40 |
| |
| “Starboard and larboard, we’ve got him fast | |
| Where his heels won’t take him through; | |
| Let him luff or wear, he’ll find us there,— | |
| Ho, Yankee, which will you do?” | |
| |
| We did not luff and we did not wear, | 45 |
| But braced our topsails back, | |
| Till the sternway drew us fair and true | |
| Broadsides athwart her track. | |
| |
| Athwart her track and across her bows | |
| We raked her fore and aft, | 50 |
| And out of the fight and into the night | |
| Drifted the beaten craft. | |
| |
| The slow Levant came up too late; | |
| No need had we to stir; | |
| Her decks we swept with fire, and kept | 55 |
| The flies from troubling her. | |
| |
| We raked her again, and her flag came down,— | |
| The haughtiest flag that floats,— | |
| And the lime-juice dogs lay there like logs, | |
| With never a bark in their throats. | 60 |
| |
| With never a bark and never a bite, | |
| But only an oath to break, | |
| As we squared away for Praya Bay | |
| With our prizes in our wake. | |
| |
| Parole they gave and parole they broke, | 65 |
| What matters the cowardly cheat, | |
| If the captain’s bride was satisfied | |
| With the one prize laid at her feet? | |
| |
| A Yankee ship and a Yankee crew— | |
| Constitution, where ye bound for? | 70 |
| Wherever the British prizes be, | |
| Though it’s one to two, or one to three,— | |
| “Old Ironsides” means victory, | |
| Acrost the Western ocean. | |
| |
