TEARS WASH MY SAD CHEEKS.
TEars wash my sad cheeks, whilst I relate the story,
of Henry the bravest of all British tars,
Cover'd with laurels, surrounded with glory,
his fears shew'd the share that he had in the wars:
Under brave Rodney he fought and obtain'd
both the thanks and applause of his captain and crew,
But cruel the fate and unkind, that ordain'd,
such an end to my Henry so brave and so true.
With rapture he fixed his fond eyes upon me,
the few hours he'd leave for to spend upon shore;
My heart, how it beat when be, tore himself from me,
tho' little I thought I would ne'er see him more:
His feet scarce on deck, when by danger surrounded,
the ship Royal George to the deep was consign’d,
Brave Kempenfelt sunk, and my Henry confounded;
by death’s near approach, to his fate was resign’d.
In so noble a ship a commander so brave,
the nation had cause her sad loss to deplore,
And the hundreds of souls overwhelm’d by the waves,
claim’d the tears of their widows on shore;
But Henry my love, my dear Henry to me,
as a nation was all my heart could deplore;
But a victim he’s fall’n to the turbulent sea,
and his faithful fond Nancy can ne’er see him more.