What looms upon the starboard bow? What hangs upon
the breeze?
'T is time our good ship hauled her wind abreast the old Sal
tees;
For by her ponderous press of sail and by her consorts four
We saw our morning visitor was a British man-of-war.
Up spoke our noble captain then, as a shot ahead of us
passed,
"Haul snug your flowing courses, lay your topsail to the
mast!"