But we all be English men!”
The “Sally” glided out of the gloom
And down the moon-white river.
She stole like a gray shark over the bar
Where the long surf seethes forever.
She hove to under a high French hull,
And the red cross rose to her peak.
The French were looking for fight that night,
And they hadn’t far to seek.
Blood and fire on the streaming decks,