When she got the word to go
Up to Monte Video,
There she found the river low, the bright Medu—sa;
So she tumbled out her guns
And a hundred of her sons,
And she taught the Dons to fight the bright Medu—sa.
{29}
When the foeman can be found
With the pluck to cross her ground,
First she walks him round and round, the bright Medu—sa;
Then she rakes him fore and aft
Till he's just a jolly raft,
And she grabs him like a kite, the bright Medu—sa.
She's the daughter of the breeze,
She's the darling of the seas,
And you'll call her, if you please, the bright Medu—sa;
For till England's sun be set—
And it's not for setting yet—
She shall bear her name by right, the bright Medu—sa.
{30}
_The Old _Suberb__
The wind was rising easterly, the morning sky was blue,
The Straits before us opened wide and free;
We looked towards the Admiral, where high the Peter flew,
And all our hearts were dancing like the sea.
"The French are gone to Martinique with four-and-twenty sail!
The Old Suberb is old and foul and slow,
But the French are gone to Martinique, and Nelson's on the trail,
And where he goes the Old Suberb must go!"
So Westward ho! for Trinidad and Eastward ho! for Spain,
And "Ship ahoy!" a hundred times a day;
Round the world if need be, and round the world again,
With a lame duck lagging all the way!
The Old Suberb was barnacled and green as grass below,
Her sticks were only fit for stirring grog;
The pride of all her midshipmen was silent long ago,
And long ago they ceased to heave the log.
{31}