Here's a hand, my fine fellows; in friendship you come,
And Punch, who likes courage, would scorn to be dumb.
He greets you with cheers; may your shades ne'er diminish,
Though you row forty-four from the start to the finish.
You will bear yourselves bravely, and merit your fame,
For brave man and Frenchman mean mostly the same.
We shall do what we can—it's our duty—to beat you,
But we know it will take a tough crew to defeat you.
And whatever the upshot, howe'er the race ends,
You and we, having struggled, shall always be friends.