Page:Three herring in sa't, with The answer.pdf/6

 Kind Neptune did protect us,

with a ſweet and pleafant breeze,

We hoiſted up our topſails,

In croſſing the raging ſeas,

We had not croſs’d the raging ſeas,

full thirty leagues or more,

We ſpy’d a fail to windward,

and down on us ſhe bore.

O then he hail’d our Admiral,

and thus to him did ſay,

The French fleet’s all fail’d out, Sir,

and bound for Quib’ron Bay.

Can you tell me at what diſtance,

and where about they ly?

O yes, kind Sir, be then reply’d,

it’s thirty leagues to day.

There’s twenty-two fail of the line,

to leeward of us do ly,

All clean and tight for action,

as ever you did ſee.

Then up beſpoke our Captain bold,

to Edward Hawke did ſay,

This is the fineſt news. Sir,

that’s brought to us this day.

Then Hawke himſelf ſoon mounted

upon the lofty yard;

His wings were ſpread at large, my boys,

and after them we ſteer’d,