The Capture of St. Jean d'Acre

Come, all you old warlike liners, who boast of deeds of war
Achieved by famous Nelson in the glorious days of yore,
Hear what has happened lately along the Syrian coast:
The downfall of the Egyptians, of which we made our boast.
So here's a health to brave Napier ; to brave Napier huzza !
Who conquered the Egyptians, and made them run away.

On the first day of November, and forty was the year,
The Wasp off St. Jean d'Acre arrived, as you may hear.
That night we anchor'd in the bay, and lay there all the night;
At half-past ten the following day, the squadron hove in sight.

As they came in they anchor'd, and furl'd without more ado ;
But some of us kept under weigh, the Castor, Wasp, and Co.
The next forenoon they all did weigh, (it was our admiral's plan)
To close with St. Jean d'Acre; the Powerful led the van.

We took up our positions, abreast of Acre town,
Determin'd, if they'd not give in, to knock their ramparts down.
A flag of truce was then sent in, but they refused to treat
Or come to any peaceful terms with this gallant British fleet.

At half-past two that afternoon the action did begin :
Our shot and shell swift flew like hail, the ramparts soon fell in;
The flagship and the Powerful showed them smart British play,
Against the noble Benbow's fire the Egyptians could not stay.

The Castor acted well her part: the foe strove hard to shake her,
But rather hot she sent her shot 'gainst the forts of St. Jean d'Acre.
The Edinburgh and Revenge, the Carysfort and Pique,
The Hazard and the Talbot made them think of quick retreat.

The saucy Thunderer that day poured forth her British thunder,
Knowing well it was the surest way to make her-foes knock under.
Besides, four steamers fit for war were there, I am proud to tell;
They harassed well our enemy with death-conveying shell.

The warlike brave Bellerophon is worthy of her name ;
For as she ranged up to the forts she poured forth smoke and flame.
Austrian frigates and the Turks, although in number few,
By Britons led they did their best great praise to them is due.

Then comes the little stinging Wasp, her weight in gold she's worth;
For under the walls of Acre she took a liner's berth :
As close as ever she could get, her captain strove to take her,
And sprung her broadsides to the forts, and stung poor St. Jean d'Acre.

That afternoon, at four o'clock, we heard a dreadful roar :
Each vessel trembled at the shock, each eye was turned on shore.
One of their magazines blew up, it was an awful sight;
Death made an awful conquest there, the heavens were black as night.

The poor Egyptians, paralysed, scarce knew what course to take,
And after five they all began their quarters to forsake:
A general terror soon was spread throughout the shattered town;
They confess'd us British conquerors and haul'd their colours down.