Verse > Anthologies > William McCarty, ed. > The American National Song Book
William McCarty, comp.  The American National Song Book.  1842.
Bainbridge’s Tid re I
            COME, lads, draw near,
            And you shall hear,
      In truth as chaste as Dian, O!
            How Bainbridge true,
            And his bold crew,        5
      Again have tamed the lion, O!
            ’Twas off Brazil,
            He got the pill,
      Which made him cry peccavi, O:
            But hours two        10
            The Java new,
      Maintain’d the battle bravely, O:

  But our gallant Yankee tars, as soon as they were piped to quarters, gave three cheers, and boldly swore, by the blood of the heroes of Tripoli, that sooner than strike, they’d go to the bottom singing
Tid re I, &c.    
            Now Johnny Bull,
            All canvass full,
      Bore down upon us cheerly, O:        15
            While we kept snug,
            As bug in rug,
      Till half gun-shot, or nearly, O:
            We show’d our stripes,
            Gave John the gripes,        20
      They sent him pills in plenty, O;
            Which dosed him well,
            As he can tell,
      Our doctors all being ready, O.

  O! it would have done your heart good to have seen how nimbly our little spitfires were set to work, and what a dust they kicked up in poor Johnny’s quarters. We could soon observe how the matter would turn out. “Stick to them, my boys!” says the commodore. “Huzza!” sung out the crew: “we’ll conquer or die!” For every soul on board, even down to the smallest powder monkey, was determined to give them a complete bit of a
Tid re I, &c.    
            Now close engaged,        25
            The battle raged,
      Both being tough as hickory, O!
            But still we swore
            We’d ne’er give o’er
      Till we had gain’d the victory, O!        30
            Round shot and bars
            Soon cut her spars,
      And well we slash’d her rigging, O!
            Nul after nul,
            We plugg’d her hull,        35
      Her bowsprit, too, went jigging, O!

  O! swamp it, if you had only seen how we plumped her between wind and water, and how our grape-shot rattled in at her port-holes, while her yards flew about their ears like straws in a high wind. We soon saw they were in a nation fluster, while our Yankee boys kept cool and steady, still bravely keeping up their
Tid re I, &c.    
            One hour was past,
            When now a mast
      Close by the board went over, O!
            Our gunner cries,        40
            “My jolly boys,
      Escape us now she’ll never, O:
            Point well each gun,
            We’ll show them fun,
      Her ensign down she soon will haul;        45
            We’ll give them play,
            This glorious day,
      Shall make them quick for quarter call.”

  So at it we struck, pell mell, like good fellows, and we made such a nation clatter with them swamping guns, that we could hardly hear any thing for the rotten noise, but our gunner watched her close and touched off our Yankee barkers so neatly in time, that slap dab every shot struck her somewhere, which soon made them feel that Yankee tars knew very well how to pay them a
Tid re I, &c.    
            We plied her well,
            At every swell,        50
      And fast her men were killing, O!
            And though so fast
            Went every mast,
      To strike she seem’d not willing, O!
            But to her cost,        55
            She found at last,
      To longer fight us wouldn’t do;
            For Yankee tars,
            Who knew no fears,
      To conquer now she couldn’t, O!

  So when the firing ceased on both sides, we had time to look about us, but we could hardly believe our eyes, for she lay like a log upon the water; there was not a stump standing higher than the pump in father’s schooner, and her sides looked for all the world like mother’s cullender, so completely had we peppered her. So to work went the boats, and aboard came the prisoners; then the commodore gave orders to burn the prize; for says he, “My brave boys, any attempt to tow her into port would be all a
Tid re I,” &c.    
            So now, my hearts,
            We’ve play’d our parts,
      Proud John once more we’ve humbled, O!
            It may be said,
            A Bull he made        65
      On Yankees when he stumbled, O!
            We’ll let him see
            We’ll still be free,
      In spite of all his boasting, O!
            And if he comes        70
            To run his hums,
      We’ll give proud John a roasting, O!

  So now, my lads, fill up the cans, to the health of all our brave commanders; and while we remember with pride the glorious victories we have gained, let us be resolved, one and all, still to maintain the honour of our flag, and Johnny Bull will soon find that any attempt to conquer a nation of freemen will be all a
Tid re I, &c.    

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