What is wealth, that men will roam,
Risque their all, and leave their home,
Face the cannon, beat the drum,
And their lives so cheaply sell!
Let them reason on the fact
Who would rather think than act—
Their brains were not with morals rack'd
Who mann'd the prince of Neufchatel.
Having play'd a lucky game,
Homeward, with her treasure, came
This privateer of gallant fame,
Call'd the prince of Neufchatel.
Are the english cruisers near?
Do they on the coast appear
To molest this privateer?—
—She shall be defended well.
Soon a frigate hove in sight:—
As the wind was rather light,
She, five barges, out of spite,
Sent, to attack, with gun and blade.
On our decks stood rugged men,
Little more than three times ten;
And I tremble, while my pen
Tells the havoc that was made.
Up they came, with colors red,
One a stern, and one a head—
Shall I tell you what they said?—
Yankees! strike the buntin rag!
Three were ranged on either side—
Then the ports were open'd wide,
And the sea with blood was dyed;
Ruin to the english flag!
Now the angry cannons roar,
Now they hurl the storm of war,
Now in floods of human gore
Swam the prince of Neufchatel!
Then the captain, Ordonneaux,
Seconded the seaman's blow,
And the remnant of the foe
Own'd the brig defended well.