Sing, Muse, tho' feeble be thy strain,
Those who our liberties maintain,
Who fearless triumph on the main--
Our Sailors!

When freedom, property, and laws,
Are threaten'd by tyrannic foes,
Who first espouse the glorious cause?
Our Sailors!

Who scorn the despot stain'd with blood,
And scare his navies o'er the flood--
Destroy them, for our country's good?
Our Sailors!

Who act thro' life an honest part?
Who always shew the gen'rous heart?
Who're dup'd by many a villain's art?
Our Sailors!

Who ever dry misfortune's tear,
Nor sorrow's tale refuse to hear;
Each helpless outcast proud to cheer?
Our Sailors!

Who guard our coast, protect the fair?
Who death and danger nobly dare?
Who bravely conquer, but to spare?
Our Sailors!

Who still supply our groaning boards,
With ev'ry dainty earth affords?
Who pity Gallia's vaunting hordes?
Our Sailors!

Who brave hidd'n rocks, and dang'rous seas?
Who bear the pestilential breeze?
Who taste not luxury nor ease?
Our Sailors!

Who mid' the tempest's threat'ning blast,
Toil, fearless, on the giddy mast,
Or, cheerful sing, of dangers past?
Our Sailors!

Who death can face, without alarm,
In battle's rage, terrific storm,
When light'nings blue Heav'n's face deform?
Our Sailors!

Who, shipwreck'd on a foreign coast,
When many a merry comrade's lost,
Still happy Albion make their boast?
Our Sailors!

To them we owe whate'er we prize,
Domestic pleasures--social ties--
Woe unto him who dare despise
Our Sailors!

Indignant, let the Muse reveal,
Nor deeds oppressive dare conceal,
But tell the pangs they're doom'd to feel,
Our Sailors!

Eager to hail their native land!
Eager to press some kindred hand,
While friendship greets along the strand,
Our Sailors!

A wife's embrace, a prattler's smile,
An honest welcome, free from guile,
These make forgetful of past toil
Our Sailors!

Oh! mark the ruthless fiends appear,
And from each dear connection tear
Men, who should be their country's care,
Our Sailors!

Blush! Britons, blush! to have it told,
That to the tender's putrid hold
Fell hirelings, cow'rdly, force the bold,
Our Sailors!

Peace to thy bosom, feeling Bard!
Who suff'ring brethren didst regard;
And call'd on Britons, to reward
Our Sailors!

While British Tars are dear to fame
So long thy song shall praises claim;
And grateful will they bless thy name,
Our Sailors!