Up spake our noble Captain then, as a shot ahead of us past—
"Haul snug your flowing courses! lay your top-sail to the mast!"
Those Englishmen gave three loud hurrahs from the deck of their covered ark,
And we answered back by a solid broadside from the decks of our patriot bark.
"Out booms! out booms!" our skipper cried, "out booms and give her sheet,"
And the swiftest keel that was ever launched shot ahead of the British fleet,
And amidst a thundering shower of shot with stun'-sails hoisting away,
Down the North Channel Paul Jones did steer just at the break of day.
The new squadron sailed for the English coast in the summer of 1779. It consisted of the flagship—a clumsy old Indiaman called the Duras, whose name Jones changed to Bon Homme Richard—and four consorts. The summer was spent in cruising about the British coast and so much damage was done that Paul Jones became a sort of bogey to all England.
[PAUL JONES]—A NEW SONG
Of heroes and statesmen I'll just mention four,
That cannot be match'd, if we trace the world o'er,
For none of such fame ever stept o'er the stones,
[As Green, Jemmy Twitcher], Lord North, and Paul Jones.
Thro' a mad-hearted war, which old England will rue,
At London, at Dublin, and Edinburgh, too,
The tradesmen stand still, and the merchant bemoans
The losses he meets with from such as Paul Jones.
How happy for England, would Fortune but sweep
At once all her treacherous foes to the deep;
For the land under burthens most bitterly groans,
To get rid of some that are worse than Paul Jones.
To each honest heart that is Britain's true friend,
In bumpers I'll freely this toast recommend,
May Paul be converted, the Ministry purg'd,
Old England be free, and her enemies scourg'd!
If success to our fleets be not quickly restor'd,
The Leaders in office to shove from the board;
May they all fare alike, and the De'il pick the bones
Of Green, Jemmy Twitcher, Lord North, and Paul Jones!