A
FIGHT
Between An
English Fire-Ship
AND
A French Privatiere.
Tune of, Give ear to my Frolicksome Ditty.
Licensed according to Order.
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I.
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I'm a Prize for a Captain to fall on,
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my Name it is Sea fareing Kate,
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My Sails they are Top and Top Gallant,
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a Frigate that's of the First Rate.
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II.
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A French-man came lately to Board me,
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which was not a very hard thing;
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And swore that he first would Romage me,
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then make a Prize for the King.
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III.
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Last Summer he Sail'd from the Shannon,
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and long at an Anchor had Rid,
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On his Mid-ship he had a good Cannon,
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was all the great Guns that he had.
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IV.
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He Hoisted his Main-Yard, and Steered
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his Course, and gave me a Broad-side,
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My Poop and my Stern Port sneared,
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between the Wind, Water and Tide.
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V.
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Close under his Lee I did hover,
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with all the force I could afford,
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But, as he had been a Rank Rover,
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he briskly did lay me on Board.
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VI.
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He sought for some hidden Treasure,
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and fell to his doing of Feats,
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But found me a Fire-ship of pleasure,
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when he entred the mouth of the straits.
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VII.
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It was a high Tide, and the Water,
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with an Easterly Wind it did blow,
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Our Frigats got foul of each other,
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and could not get off, nor Ride so.
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VIII.
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My bottom was strongly well planked,
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my Deck could a Tempest endure,
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But ne'er was poor Dog in a blanket,
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so tossed as was the Monsieur.
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IX.
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No Near then his Course he still steered,
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and clapt his hand down to his sword,
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But as his loof Tackle he cleared,
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I brought his Main-Top by the Board.
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X.
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He feared to burn a Sea Martyr,
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for my Gun-Room was all on a fire,
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But I blew up my second Deck quarter,
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just as he began to Retire.
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XI.
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I seper'd him so from the Senter,
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as ne'er was a Son of a whore,
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I burnt his Main-Yard at a Venture,
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so that he would board me no more.
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Then Monsieur got off, and was grieved,
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and Cursed the English first Rates,
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For, till then, he could ne'er have beleived,
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that Strumbilo lay in the Streights.
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