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But still he cried, fight on my boys,
in the Polly privateer.
Our Captain he lay bleeding,
and unto us did say,
Give her another broadside,
we'll show them British play;
Then we gave her a broadside,
also three British cheers,
And down her colours quickly came,
to the Polly privateer.
Now this prize we have taken,
from Dunkirk she set sail,
To take our British merchant ships,
upon the raging main,
Her name is the La Cæsar,
of thirty guns, is clear,
And to Liverpool she was brought, my boys,
by the Polly privateer.
The Polly she had twenty killed,
the La Cæsar forty-one,
Which causes many a mother cry,
alas! my darling son;
Be kind unto those widows
that are left in distress,
And also their dear children,
who are left fatherless.
COLIN AND LUCY.
HARK! hark! 'tis a voice from the tomb!
“come, Lucy! (it cries) come away:
