The nineteenth of October from the Bay they set sail,
Brave Nelson got intelligence, and soon was at their tail.

It was on the twenty-first my boys, we had them clear in sight,
And on that very day, at noon, began the bloody fight.
Our fleet forming two columns, then he broke the enemy's line,
To spare the use of signals, was Nelson's pure design.

For now the voice of thunder is heard on every side,
The briny waves like crimson, with human gore were dy'd;
The French and Spanish heroes their courage well did show,
But our brave British sailors soon brought their colours low.

Four hours and ten minutes, this battle it did hold,
And on the briny ocean, men never fought more bold,
But, on the point of victory brave Nelson, he was slain,
And, on the minds of Britons, his death will long remain.

Nineteen sail of the enemy are taken and destroyed,
You see the rage of Britons, our foes cannot avoid:
And ages yet unborn will have this story for to tell,
The twenty-first of October, our gallant Nelson fell.

I hope the wives and children will quickly find relief,
For the loss of those brave heroes, their hearts are filled with grief,
And may our warlike officers aspire to such a fame,
And revenge the death of Nelson, with his undying name.

VI

GIVE IT TO HIM, CHARLEY

Arouse, you British sons, arouse!
And all who stand to Freedom's cause,
While sing of the impending wars,
And England's bluff old Charley.
I'll tell how British seamen brave,
Of Russian foes will clear the wave,
Old England's credit for to save,
Led on by gallant Charley.

Our gallant tars led by Napier,
May bid defiance to the Bear,
While hearty shouts will rend the air,
With, Mind, and give it to him, Charley.

Our jolly tars will have to tell,
How they the Russian bears did quell,
And each honest heart with pride will dwell,
For our jackets blue, and Charley.
For they'll never leave a blot or stain,
While our British flag flies at the main,
But their foes they'll thrash again and again,
While led on by gallant Charley.
Our gallant tars, etc.

Tyrant Nicky, you may fume and boast,
And with threats disturb each peaceful coast,
But you reckoned have without your host,
For you're no good to our tars and Charley.