The Diomede's shot
Was damnation hot,
She was several times in a blaze;
It was not my lot
To go then to pot,
But I veow, I was struck with amaze.
And Ned, may I die,
Or be pok'd in a sty,
If ever I venture again
Where bullets do fly,
And the wounded do cry,
Tormented with anguish and pain.
[The Hope], I can tell,
And the brig Constance fell,
I swear, and I veow, in our sight;
The first I can say,
Was taken by day,
But the latter was taken at night.
I die to relate
What has been our fate,
How sadly our navies are shrunk;
The pride of our State
Begins to abate,
For the branches are lopp'd from the trunk.
The Congress must bend,
We shall fall in the end,
For the curs'd British sarpents are tough;
But, I think as you find,
I have enough penn'd
Of such cursèd, such vexatious stuff.
Yet how vexing to find
We are left all behind,
That by sad disappointment we're cross'd;
Ah, fortune unkind!
Thou afflicted'st my mind,
When the South Carolina we lost.
Our enemy vile,
Cunning Digby does smile,
Is pleasèd at our mischance;
He useth each wile
Our fleets to beguile,
And to check our commerce with France.
No more as a friend,
Our ships to defend,
Of South Carolina we boast;
As a foe in the end,
She will us attend,
For the South Carolina we've lost.