Verse > Anthologies > William McCarty, ed. > The American National Song Book
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William McCarty, comp.  The American National Song Book.  1842.
 
Saratoga and Morgiana
 
COME, banish all your pretty jars,
And shout your joy in loud huzzas,
In honour of Columbia’s tars,
    Whose valour ne’er shall fail her;
Let echo answer to the strain,        5
And pass the tidings o’er the main,
      That British pride,
      Which we deride,
Again is humbled on the tide,
    By Freedom’s gallant sailor.        10
 
Once Saratoga swell’d the song,
As Britain will remember long,
Burgoyne, with seven thousand strong,
    In fight could not avail her;
Now Saratoga, on the main,        15
Has shown that Britain’s claim is vain,
      To rule the sea,
      By nature free,
’Tis what shall never, never be,
    Says every Yankee sailor.        20
 
This Saratoga, you shall hear,
Was fitted out a privateer,
And mann’d by tars unknown to fear,
    From danger never paler;
To die or conquer all agreed,        25
Each gallant tar prepared to bleed,
      To nobly die,
      But never fly,
While George’s cross was waving high;
    ’Twas like a Yankee sailor.        30
 
They hoisted sail, and cruised afar,
To aid their country in the war,
And many a valiant British tar,
    Has reason to bewail her;
They fought and captured all they met;        35
While Britons vainly fume and fret,
      Each gallant prize,
      In safety lies,
While far to sea for more she flies,
    To enrich a Yankee sailor.        40
 
At length they espy a worthier mark,
To try their little gallant bark—
Behold a ship of war! and hark!
    They arrogantly hail her!
The Saratoga quick replies,        45
In language that astounds the skies,
      While Freedom’s sons,
      Still serve their guns,
Till, call’d “away,” each boarder runs,
    And each a Yankee sailor.        50
 
The foe has eighteen guns or more,
The Saratoga only four;
Away! my lads, and board once more,
    And fiercer still assail her.
Huzza, huzza, boys! see she strikes!        55
Now board your prize without your pikes,
      And secure those
      No longer foes,
When generous blood in duty flows,
    And save a brother sailor.        60
 
 
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