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An American frigate, the Richard by name |
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Mounting guns forty-four, from New York she came. |
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For to cruising the channel of Old England's fame |
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With a noble commander, Paul Jones was his name. |
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Hurrah, our country forever, hurrah |
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We had not sailed far before two sails we spied |
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A stout forty-four and a twenty likewise, |
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And forty boats shipping, all laden with store, |
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As the convoy stood in for the old Yorkshire shore. |
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Hurrah, our country forever, hurrah |
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Our brave Captain Jones, to his men he did say, |
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“Let every man fight a good battle today |
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We’ll take that bold convoy in the height of her pride |
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For the Richard shall founder and sink in the tide” |
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Hurrah, our country forever, hurrah |
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The battle rolled on until bold Pierson cried |
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“Have you struck your colors? Then come alongside” |
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But so far from thinking the battle was won |
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John Paul Jones replied, “I have not yet begun!” |
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Hurrah, our country forever, hurrah |
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We fought them four glasses, four glasses so hot, |
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Till fifty bold sailors lay dead on the spot, |
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And fifty-five others lay stretched in their gore, |
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While the thundering cannons most fiercely did roar. |
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Hurrah, our country forever, hurrah |
| [01:59.175] |
The Alliance bore down and the Richard did rake, |
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Which caused the bold hearts of our seamen to wake |
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But our shot flew so hot, that they couldn’t stand long |
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And the brave British colors came finally down. |
| [02:15.917] |
Hurrah, our country forever, hurrah |
