William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.
Yankee FrolicsN
’Bout Nelsons of old Johnny Bull;
I’ll sing ye a song by my conscience,
’Bout Jones, and Decatur, and Hull.
Dad Neptune has long, with vexation,
Beheld with what insolent pride,
The turbulent billow-wash’d nation
Has aimed to control his salt tide.
Sing lather away, jonteel and aisy,
By my soul at the game hob-or-nob,
In a very few minutes we’ll plase ye,
Because we take work by the job.
His equal you’ll seldom come near;
But Hull betwixt smoking and roasting,
Despatch’d his proud frigate Guerriere!
Such treatment to him was a wonder,
Which served his proud spirit to choke;
And, when to the bottom our thunder
Had sent her, we laugh’d at the joke.
Sing lather away, jonteel and aisy,
Brave Hull at the game hob-or-nob,
Is the boy that will surely amaze ye,
So well he can finish the job.
The Wasp, with Rodgers, Biddle, and Jones,
So terribly stung the poor Frolic!
As left her but bare skin and bones.
She struck, but what could she do better;
For time, there was none to delay,
Indeed it must terribly fret her
To see she could not run away.
Sing lather away, jonteel and aisy,
Brave Jones at the game hob-or-nob,
Is the lad that will surely amaze ye
So well he can work by the job.
And add to the strength of each state,
Decatur, without sauce or gravy,
Has dress’d Alexander the Great!
By my soul, to prevent further trouble,
And save a disgraceful downfall;
Since they find all resistance a bubble,
They’ll strike without fighting at all.
Sing lather away, jonteel and aisy,
Decatur, to play hob-or-nob,
Will in seventeen minutes amaze ye,
Huzza! ’twas a quick finish’d job.
Whose Guerriere-job you encored,
Sent the Java to sound the deep ocean,
After trimming her slick by the board.
Though Lambert for nearly two hours
Resisted the Yankees’ attack,
The flag of St. George at length cowers,
And the stars and the stripes mount the wreck.
Sing lather away, jonteel and aisy
When Bainbridge begins hob-or-nob,
In the end never fear but he’ll plaze ye,
So completely he’ll finish the job.
And meets with a Peacock so gay;
Yet the Yankee makes bold e’en to scorn it,
And clips his proud plumage away;
A short half-glass ere they were crippled,
The Pea-chickens flutter’d around;
When their Peake being struck and hull riddled,
They hoisted their jack—union down.
Sing lather away, jonteel and aisy,
When Lawrence shall try hob-or-nob,
He takes fourteen minutes to amaze ye,
Constitutionally ending his job.
Lawrence, Bainbridge, Decatur, Jones, Hull,
When they either despatch to old Davy,
Or bring home the ships of John Bull.
And may Congress, the seamen’s protectors,
Reward all the deeds of the brave;
And Britain still find us the victors
Whene’er we contend on the wave.
So lather away, jonteel and aisy,
Columbians all play hob-or-nob,
And our seamen will never disgrace ye,
They’re getting so used to the job.