Thomas Carter, ?-1804
Stand to your guns! my hearts of oak,|
Let not a word on board be spoke,
Victory soon will crown the joke;
Be silent and be ready.
Ram home your guns and sponge them well,
Let us be sure, the balls will tell,
The cannon's roar shall sound their knell,
Be steady, boys, be steady.
Not yet, nor yet, nor yet.
Reserve your fire,
I do desire, fire!
Now, the elements do rattle,
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