Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.

The Seven Naval Victories

JOHN BULL, in a passion, once stoutly resolved

That he’d settle accounts, in dispute long involved:

For John had found out by his books, it appears,

That Jonathan owed him a grudge for some years.
Derry down, &c.

This Jonathan was a great dealer in ware,

Who imported the notions that Johnny could spare;

Whom he thought his best friend, until time had betray’d

He’d deceived him in orders, in counsel, and trade.
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When John first came out in a warrior’s attire,

His crest triple-plumed, his mouth foaming with ire;

He challenged his customer boldly to fight,

To prove by a combat his balance was right.
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Friend Jonathan was not a lover of strife,

He loved money well, but much better his life;

And John vainly thought he had not to do more

Than to kick and to cuff him as oft he’d before,
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When Jonathan heard of John’s bluster, the while,

His anger was kindled, his blood it did boil:

Quoth he, “Mr. Bull, I’ll soon make it appear

You have taken this time the wrong sow by the ear.”
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The battle commenced and with fury was tried;

Whilst John on his skill and experience relied,

Poor Johnny, untutor’d, on bottom did rest,

He’d a strong Constitution—his pluck was the best.
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John sparr’d at a distance, right sure of success,

Till Jonathan closed with a furious press;

And, breaking one half of his ribs at a blow,

In forty-five minutes, John cried, “Stop, Hull-O!”
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The battle concluded, John scarcely could rest,

His feelings were wounded, his spirits depress’d;

So, says he, “By the way of drowning all pain,

I’ll get drunk in a Frolic, and fight him again.”
Derry down, &c.

This insolent threat, under shameful defeat,

Raised Jonathan’s choler, and Jonathan’s feet;

Like a Wasp he flew at him, and, changing his tones,

John cried out peccavi to old Davy Jones.
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John having revived from his desperate wo,

And gaining fresh courage from every fresh blow;

Macedonian madness, like Aleck the great,

Involved him in wars—in black eyes—broken pate.
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For John, in the course of the rolling of time,

Had changed his retirement, his country and clime;

And in the United States was again met

By Jonathan, who drubb’d him into a sweat.
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John, stung with disaster and threefold disgrace,

In India’s fair climes sought for safety and peace;

But Jonathan chanced to go there in pursuit,

He met him in Java, and flogg’d him to boot.
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John, finding that he had to do with a wight

Who was too much his match in a rough fisty fight;

Resolved a few lessons to learn, ere ’twas late,

At Crib’s or at Molineux’s next royal bait.
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Now John, who for boasting could ne’er be outdone,

Had a bird which, for splendour, would rival the sun:

A bird which, he said, that, when pitted to fight,

Was as certain of conquest as valorous knight.
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His Peacock he placed in the care of a friend,

But, the bird being silly, soon came to its end:

For, approaching too near to a dangerous nest,

A Hornet attacked and soon buzz’d him to rest.
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Jack having acquired the pugical art,

And priding himself on his muscles and heart;

Left home in the character, novel and rare,

Of a Boxer profess’d in the “art militaire.”
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When Jonathan saw him first flourish his fists,

The gauntlet was thrown, and they enter’d the lists,

For Jonathan’s Enterprise boldly defies

Broken ribs, bloody nose, or a pair of black eyes.
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The ring was now form’d—the first round was severe;

John dealt his opponent a blow on the ear,

Which had well nigh proved fatal to Johnny, alack!

Had he not been supported by friends at his back.
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The second round alter’d the state of the fight;

John was knock’d down in turn, and the dust made to bite,

Which decided, right quickly, the fate of the day,

For John cried “enough,” and was straight led away.
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To Jonathan’s carried, his wounds were bound up,

And John, when recruited, requested a sup

Of cider or whisky, his strength to repair,

So Jonathan gave him the “juice of a pear.”
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The taste of the liquor well pleased Mr. Bull,

Who, having quaff’d potently, till he was full,

In a style of importance turn’d round to his host,

And told him he’d take all his Perry at cost.
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Now Jonathan was a right humorous wag;

He order’d the liquor—the jug did not flag;

And John got his dose of the exquisite stuff;

For the Perry o’ercame him—he cried “I’ve enough!”
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When John became sober and thought of his state,

Says he, “Chance is against me, as well as my fate:

I’ve been seven times conquer’d, and now I at length

Think it time to walk off, to recover my strength.”
Derry down, &c.