Unless it be for mere defence
May shipwrights fail to launch you hence,
At best, the comrade of old Nick —
Some folks will smile to see you stick.
But now, suppose the matter done,
And her the element upon;
What cause have we mad wars to wage
Or join the quarrels of the age?
Remote from Europe's wrangling race,
Who show us no pacific face
Let's tread negociation's track
Before we venture to attack.
But to the seas if we must go,
‘ Tis clearly seen who is the foe,
Who hastens, at no distant date,
To repossess his lost estate.
I see them raise the storm of war,
To cloud the gay columbian star,
I see them, bloody, brave and base
Make us the object of their chase.
Their ships of such superior might
All we possess will put to flight,
Or bear them off, with all on board,
To make a meal for George the third.
One frigate, only, will not do —
She must retreat while they pursue,
To make her drink affliction's cup,
And, heaven preserve us, eat her up.
A navy of stupendous strength
‘ Tis plain, must be our lot at length,
To sweep the seas, to guard the shore,
And crush their haughtiest seventy four.
Those puny ships that now we frame,
( The way that England plays her game )
Will to their bull-dogs fall a prey
The hour we get them under weigh.—