'Tis of a stately Southerner|
Who flew the Stripes and Stars
The whistling wind from west nor'west
Blew through our pitch-pine spars
We had our larboard tacks on board
As we hung upon a gale,
Geble Island light shone bright
From the Old Head of Kinsale.
2. No thought was there of shortening sail
3. It was a bright and a cloudless night,
4. "What's this upon our weather bow
5. What did our daring foeman do?|
A shot ahead he passed,
Clewed up his flowing courses,
Laid his topsails to the mast.
Those British tars gave three huzzas
From the deck of their black corvette
But we answered back with a scornful laugh
As our starry flag we set.
6. "Out booms, out booms!" cried the Southerner.
7. The midtide meets the Channel wave
8. Out spake our noble captain then,
9. The fog was rising o'er the land,|
The wind was from the shore,
And the poor Dungarven fishernen
Sought shelter in Kinsore.
With light sails set and booms rigged out
And stun's'ls hoisted away
Paul Jones did clear the Channel mouth
Before the dawn of day.
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