When last in the Dreadful your honour set sail

When last in the Dreadful your honour set sail,
On Newfoundland banks, there came on a hard gale,
There was thunder, red lightning, and cold whistling hail,
Enough the old gemman to scare;
One who threaten'd your life, dash'd below by a wave,
Your own hand I saw snatch from a watery grave;
And you said 'twas well done, for that still with the brave
The noblest of glory's to spare.

When yard arm and yard arm long side of a foe,
When the blood from the scuppers rain'd on us below,
When crippled enough to be taken in tow,
To strike we saw mounseer prepare;
If a broadside below, or a volley above,
The men were all ready to give her for love,
How oft has your honour cry'd not a hand move,
A hero's true glory's to spare.