We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed And smoothed down his lonely pillow, How the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow!
Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him; But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
But half of our heavy task was done, When the clock struck the hour for retiring; And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing.
Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone— But we left him alone with his glory.
Wolfe.
[LXXX]
THE OLD NAVY
The captain stood on the carronade: ‘First lieutenant,’ says he, ‘Send all my merry men aft here, for they must list to me; I haven't the gift of the gab, my sons—because I'm bred to the sea; That ship there is a Frenchman, who means to fight with we. And odds bobs, hammer and tongs, long as I've been to sea, I've fought 'gainst every odds—but I've gained the victory!
That ship there is a Frenchman, and if we don't take she, 'Tis a thousand bullets to one, that she will capture we; I haven't the gift of the gab, my boys; so each man to his gun; If she's not mine in half an hour, I'll flog each mother's son. For odds bobs, hammer and tongs, long as I've been to sea, I've fought 'gainst every odds—and I've gained the victory!’
We fought for twenty minutes, when the Frenchman had enough; ‘I little thought,’ said he, ‘that your men were of such stuff’; Our captain took the Frenchman's sword, a low bow made to he; ‘I haven't the gift of the gab, monsieur, but polite I wish to be. And odds bobs, hammer and tongs, long as I've been to sea, I've fought 'gainst every odds—and I've gained the victory!’
Our captain sent for all of us: ‘My merry men,’ said he, ‘I haven't the gift of the gab, my lads, but yet I thankful be. You've done your duty handsomely, each man stood to his gun; If you hadn't, you villains, as sure as day, I'd have flogged each mother's son. For odds bobs, hammer and tongs, as long as I'm at sea, I'll fight 'gainst every odds—and I'll gain the victory!’