William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.
Song: Oer the waste of waters cruisingO
Long the General Monk had reign’d;
All subduing, all reducing,
None her lawless rage restrain’d.
Many a brave and hearty fellow,
Yielding to this warlike foe,
When her guns began to bellow,
Struck his humbled colours low.
Leaving the wide watery way,
She, a stranger to distresses,
Came to cruise within Cape May.
“Now we soon,” said Captain Rogers,
“Shall their men of commerce meet;
In our hold we’ll have them lodgers,
We shall capture half their fleet.
Back our topsails to the mast:
They toward us full are steering
With a gentle western blast.
I’ve a list of all their cargoes,
All their guns, and all their men:
I am sure these modern Argos
Can’t escape us, one in ten.
Sailing with the General Greene:
First we’ll fight the Hyder Ali:
Taking her is taking them.
She intends to give us battle,
Bearing down with all her sail:
Now, boys, let our cannon rattle;
To take her we cannot fail.
Soon shall terrify this foe;
We shall maul her, we shall wound her,
Bringing rebel colours low.”
While he thus anticipated
Conquests that he could not gain,
He in the Cape May channel waited
For the ship that caused his pain.
Thus address’d his gallant crew:—
“Now, brave lads, be bold and daring,
Let your hearts be firm and true;
This is a proud English cruiser,
Roving up and down the main:
We must fight her—must reduce her,
Though our decks be strew’d with slain.
We must conquer or must die:
We must take her up the river,
Whate’er comes of you or I:
Though she shows most formidable,
With her eighteen pointed nines,
And her quarters, clad in sable,
Let us balk her proud designs.
We will face that daring band;
Let no dangers damp your courage,
Nothing can the brave withstand;
Fighting for your country’s honour,
Now to gallant deeds aspire;
Helmsman, bear us down upon her:
Gunner, give the word to fire.”
Straight began the dismal fray,
Cannon mouths, each other greeting,
Belch’d their smoky flames away.
Soon the langrage, grape, and chain-shot,
That from Barney’s cannons flew,
Swept the Monk, and cleared each round-top,
Killed and wounded half her crew.
But they from their quarters fled,
While the roaring Hyder Ali
Covered o’er his decks with dead.
When from their tops their dead men tumbled,
And the streams of blood did flow,
Then their proudest hopes were humbled
By their brave inferior foe.
They beheld their champions fall;
And their captain, sorely wounded,
Bade them quick for quarter call.
Then the Monk’s proud flag descended,
And her cannon ceased to roar;
By her crew no more defended,
She confess’d the contest o’er.
You have humbled one proud foe:
No brave action this surpasses;
Fame shall tell the nations so.
Thus be Britain’s woes completed,
Thus abridged her cruel reign,
Till she, ever thus defeated,
Yields the sceptre of the main.