The British Tars

Come all you bold young thoughtless men,
A warning take by me,
And never leave your happy homes,
To sail the raging seas,

For I have ploughed the raging main,
This twenty years and more,
But now I am turned adrift to starve,
Upon my native shore.

When war at first assailed us,
I quickly left my trade,
Our country was in danger,
I flew to lend my aid,

And in my country's service,
Long, long fatigues I bore,
But now I'm turned adrift to starve,
Upon my native shore.

By storms and raging tempests,
Shipwrecked three times I've been,
And many a bloody battle,
Upon the seas I have seen.

I've seen the cannon's glaring flash,
Have heard its murd'rous roar,
Tho' now I'm turned adrift to starve,
Upon my native shore.

The British Seaman's valour,
To all the world is known,
We conquer still where e'er we go,
The action is our own.

The Metor flag of Haughty Gaul,
Triumphantly we bore,
But now we are turned adrift to starve,
Upon my native shore.

Should hostile fleets e'er venture,
Upon the raging main,
True Hearts of Oak we British Tars,
We'll push to sea again.

And bravely bring their ships to port,
As we have done before.
So help us now while we are in want,
Upon our native shore.

Come pity ye gentle stranger,
A luckless British tar,
In your defense you yet may hurl,
The thunder bolt of war,

Come lend me some kind assistance,
And heaven will bless your store,
For now I'm turned adrift to starve,
Upon my native shore.