A New Song on the Taking of Havannah

Give ear, true Britons to my song, and joyful acclamations ;
'Tis the noble deeds now done by our own relations.
While Albemarle did command, Pocock and General Keppel:
Let Moro Fort, and Spaniards vaunt if Britons be unable.

Against Havannah we set sail, with a fleet of combination ;
Land troops we likewise had on board, to pay off Spain's aggression.
We moor'd our ships, and landed our troops, the Spaniards came down raging;
But they found we were true British boys, as we their fury were swaging.

We chac'd the Spaniards thro' the woods, and hunted them like mawkin,
And turn'd up hundreds in their fuds, the rest ran homeward quaking.
For though they came in thousands on, our fire would make them scatter,
But we true Britons kept our ground, while blood did run like water.

The Spaniards judg'd the Moro's fort the Briton's strength would banter,
But when we blew it up i' the air, they tuned another chanter.
Bold Harvey with three noble ships their walls by sea did batter,
While we bombarded it on land, and did their out-works clatter.

But never was heard such woful thuds as the Cambridge and
Marlborough [did give 'em]
The Dragon fired as brisk as they, but for smoak none could perceive them.
The Cambridge got her captain shot, and a hundred more beside him,
Brave Harvey then his station quit, for five long hours he try'd them.

But finding it bomb and cannon proof, we then did give it over,
And sprung a mine below their walls, which split the rocks in shivers.
Some Spaniards went up with the blast, which made their fellows wonder,
Such a hideous roar ne'er heard before, it far exceeded thunder.

Then we approach'd upon a breach, our firelocks cock'd and ready,
Where the Spaniards met us for a brush, imploring on their Lady
To aid Velasco a Spaniard bold, a valiant sea commander,
Who vow'd for to defend his fort, while Marza kept up his standard.

O, then began the bloody fray, with bayonets and broad swords champing,
Through bones and bellies we made our way, and dying men under us trampling;
Of seven hundred Spaniards here, scarce left alive was eighty,
Velasco by his standard fell, whose deeds were counted mighty.

Then to Havannah we did march, and trenches rais'd like mountains,
Then cut away their water pipes, which supplied them with fresh fountains,
Our batteries then began to play, with roars aloud like thunder,
Which dash'd their walls and chimnies down, yet loath for to knock under.

O, then with bombs and fiery balls, threatened their utter ruin,
Which rais'd such cries, as pierc'd the skies, for mercy they were suing.
[Juan] de Prado to British tars was loath to be subjected,
But brave Albemarle told him his fate was then to be ransacked,

Or buried in the city's ruin, him and his whole fraternity;
This made him to subjection yield, and so they were disarmed;
All stores and treasures of the place are bought by Briton's glory,
Seven ships, their arms and everything, and that's a noble story.

O, then with honour we lin'd their gates, and bravery to our wishing,
And turn'd Don Spaniard from their posts, which they held by commission;
May our noble King prosper long, and all his brave commanders,
Who bravely led on Britain's sons, to knock down popish standards.