Verse > Anthologies > William McCarty, ed. > The American National Song Book
William McCarty, comp.  The American National Song Book.  1842.
Lawrence’s Tid re I
            COME, all you boys,
            Who freedom prize,
      And join my song in chorus, O;
            John Bull’s found out,
            In this last bout,        5
      When Yankees fight they conquer, O.
            The Hornet’s might,
            In glorious fight,
      We’ve proved upon the Peacock, O;
            She spread her sail,        10
            And show’d her tail,
      Which soon our Hornet tickled, O.

  “Crowd all sail,” says our captain, “and if we once get alongside of her, we’ll teach them common blunderers the difference between the sons of freedom, fighting for their country’s rights, and the base slaves of a cruel tyrant.” The crew two by two, one after the other, gave nine cheers, and as if nothing at all ailed them, kept singing
Tid re I, &c.    
            Now to’t we went,
            With firm intent,
      To do the job genteely, O,        15
            Her union Jack,
            With great eclat,
      They hoisted at her mizen, O;
            But soon our stripes
            Gave Jack the gripes,        20
      Our stars they shone in splendour, O;
            While our brave tars,
            Inspired by Mars,
      Their cannon loud made rattle, O.

  We soon came up with her, and after a long shot or two, our captain gave orders to bear down upon her, and lay her close alongside. O, it would have made your heart glad to see how neatly we fixed the business for her, in spite of their frequent cries of “Britons, strike home, strike home,” while we kept playing them a bit of our
Tid re I, &c.    
            The Peacock’s game        25
            We soon did tame,
      Each shot its object answer’d, O,
            Behold Captain Peake
            In death doth sleep,
      And thirty-six were wounded, O;        30
            And our brave crew,
            Who are true blue,
      Now on her starboard raked her, O;
            “Five minutes more,
            Her flag shall lower,”        35
      Exulting cried our captain, O.

  At last down came the British flag, and she firing a gun to leeward, at the same time hoisting her Jack (Union down) as a signal of distress, this touched the heart of our brave captain, who ordered assistance to be given, and on boarding her, found that she was as full of holes as a lime sieve, and in the act of helping our conquered foes, she filled, and down went three of our bravest tars, who notwithstanding kept singing
Tid re I, &c.    
            Fill up the glass,
            Round let it pass,
      We’ll drink long life to Lawrence, O.
            Likewise to those        40
            Who’ve show’d our foes
      Columbia’s still triumphant, O;
            And when again
            They plough the main,
      They’ll ne’er disgrace their colours, O;        45
            And Britain’s host,
            Who throng our coast,
      They’d beat with half their number, O.

  So now while we are safe at home, enjoying the smiles of our wives and sweethearts, in this blessed land of Freedom, let us toast the memory of those brave fellows who have lost their lives for “free trade and sailor’s rights;” and when we again receive sailing orders, we’ll amuse John Bull with our
Tid re I, &c.    

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