For hard is our fate, and it grieves us full sore,
Then farewell, dear England, we’ll see thee no more.
Farewell to our wives, and our sweethearts likewise;
Tho’ we’re driven to battle yet we’ll bullets despise;
And if its our fortune to return once again,
We’ll bring store of riches, and bid adieu to the main.
A Song in Praise of the
KEELMEN VOLUNTEERS. On board the Lapwing Frigate.
Tune—White Cockade.