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They never meet us,
but they wiſh us away:
If they run, then we follow,
and run them a-ſhore,
For if they won't fight us,
we cannot do more.
Hearts of Oak, &'c.
They ſwear they'll invade us,
these terrible foes!
They frighten our women,
our children and beaux:
But ſhould their flat bottoms
in darkness get o'er,
Still Britons they'll find
to receive them on ſhore.
Hearts of Oak, &C.
We'll ſtill make them run,
And we'll ſtill make them ſweat,
In spite of the devil,
and Bruſſel's Gazette.
Then cheer up, my lads,
with one voice let us ſing,
Our ſoldiers, our ſailors,
our Statesmen and King.
Hearts of Oak, &c.
