The Blanch,

      Pitts Printer & Toy Warehouse 6 Grea
                  St. Andrew street 7 Dials

YOU Frenchmen don't boast of your fighting,
Nor talk what great deeds you have done.
Do you think that Old England you'll frighton,
As easy as Holland or Spain,
We listen and laugh while you threaten.
Your boasting and wily advance,
The boasting Le Picque has been taken.
By the jolly brave tars of the Blancia.
We sailed from the Bay Point Peter,
Four hundred and fifty on board ,
We were all ready to meet them,
To conquer or die was ne word,
While the cann of good liquor was flowing
We gave them three cheers to advance,
And courage in each heart was glowing
For cowa ds ne'er sail'd in the Blanch.
The night then advancing upon us.
The moon did affo d us a light
Each star then with lustre was shining.
To keep the French fr gates in sight
While the breeze gently filled our sails.
Our s ip thro the water did launch
And the grog flew about in ful bumpers.
Among the brave ta s of the Blanch.
The fight made the sea eemon fire
Each bu le distract dly flew
Britannia her sons did in p e
With courage that damp'd the French crew
Saying cowards now surely must die
While over them death turn'd his lance
Our balls did repeat as they flew
Fight on my brave ars of the Blanch
When Falkner resign'd his last breath
Each ga e a deep tear and asigh
Such sorrow was found a his death
With s mpe ing r ad wep and died
Like Vol e then with victory crown'd
At his death he cry'd ne'e mind my chance
But like gallant hereos fight on,
Or exp re by he name of the Blanch
Stout Wi kins his place soon supplied,
And like a bold actor engag'd
And his guns with mo e judgment to guide
For the lo s of his captain enrag'd
And who could his fury allay
When L P c ue alongs de did advance
For our mast being all shot away
We grapoled her close to the Blanch
Our foremast and m z n being gone
The French thought they d make us their own
And with Vive le Republic song
I thought they never would have done
We joined their song with dismay
And music t a made them to dance
And not a alse note their was play'd
By the harmonious tars of the Blanch
When they found it in vain for to stand
They cried out for quarters amain,
Although the advantage they had
Still Briton are Lords of the main
So push round the g og let it pass,
Since they ve found us true hearted and staunch
Each lad with his favorite lass
Drink success to the tars of the Blanch