"'Twas just at sunrise, and a glorious day,
Our squadron at anchor snug in Put-in-Bay,
When we saw the bold Britons, and cleared for a bout,
Instead of put in, by the Lord we put out.
"Up went union-jack, never up there before,
'Don't give up the ship' was the motto it bore;
And as soon as that motto our gallant lads saw,
They thought of their Lawrence, and shouted huzza!
"Oh! then it would have raised your hat three inches higher,
To see how we dash'd in among them like fire!
The Lawrence went first, and the rest as they could,
And a long time the brunt of the action she stood.
"'Twas peppering work,—fire, fury, and smoke,
And groans that from wounded lads, spite of 'em, broke.
The water grew red round our ship as she lay,
Though 'twas never before so till that bloody day.
"They fell all around me like spars in a gale;
The shot made a sieve of each rag of a sail;
And out of our crew scarce a dozen remain'd;
But these gallant tars still the battle maintain'd.
"'Twas then our commander—God bless his young heart—
[Thought it best from his well-peppered ship to depart],
And bring up the rest who were tugging behind—
For why—they were sadly in want of a wind.
"So to Yarnall he gave the command of his ship,
And set out, like a lark, on this desperate trip,
In a small open yawl, right through their whole fleet,
Who with many a broadside our cockboat did greet.
"I steer'd her and damme if every inch
Of these timbers of mine at each crack didn't flinch:
But our tight little commodore, cool and serene,
To stir ne'er a muscle by any was seen.
"Whole volleys of muskets were levell'd at him,
But the devil a one ever grazed e'en a limb,
Though he stood up aloft in the stern of the boat,
Till the crew pull'd him down by the skirt of his coat.
"At last, through Heaven's mercy, we reached t'other ship,
And the wind springing up, we gave her the whip,
And run down their line, boys, through thick and through thin,
And bother'd their crews with a horrible din.