British Tars Rewarded

The tars of Old England have long toil'd in vain,
From the time of King Charles down to the present reign ;
But their royal master their wages doth raise,
So join, British sailors, in King George's praise.

The fleet of Lord Bridport, the terror of France,
Petition'd the throne that their pay might advance.
Their petitions were granted, each grievance redress'd,
In the heart of each seaman great George he is bless'd.

No longer neglected, no longer forlorn,
Brave seamen will wander, dejected, our scorn ;
Their petitions are granted, each grievance made known
Soon met with redress at the foot of the throne.

Cheer, cheer, British seamen, your sails now unfurl,
Against our proud foes soon defiance we'll hurl;
Our toils are rewarded, advanc'd is our pay.
Success to those seamen who gain'd us the day !

Adieu, pretty Nancy of Portsmouth, adieu!
When your William is absent, I pray then be true.
To fight for our king and our country we go;
Our toils are rewarded, we'll face the proud foe.

Farewell to our children ; farewell, dearest wives !
We don't leave you distress'd, tho' we venture our lives :
Our pay is advanced, which you shall receive;
Then dry up each tear, girls, and cease for to grieve.

Then, my boys, hoist your sails, to Old England adieu,
No longer oppressed, to you we'll prove true:
You shall find that a tar is both grateful arid brave
We'll die, but our king and our country we'll save.

Three cheers, lads ! three cheers, lads ! we lose sight of land.
In defence of our country we'll join heart and hand ;
And when we return, boys, we'll drink, dance and sing
With wives and with sweethearts, so God save the King !